Autonomous Technology - Technics-out-of-Control as a Theme in Political Thought

Autonomous Technology
Technics-out-of-Control as a Theme in Political Thought

Langdon Winner

The MIT Press
Cambridge, Massachusetts, and London, England

306.46 WIN |

(CHS
First MIT Press paperback edition, 1978

Copyright © 1977 by The Massachusetts Institute of Technology

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by
any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by
any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from

the publisher.

This book was set by To the Lighthouse Press, printed in the United States
of America.

Library of Congress Cataloging in Publication Data

Winner, Langdon
Autonomous Technology.

Includes Index
1, Technology—Social aspects. 2. Technology—
Philosophy. 3. Technocracy. I. Title.
T14.5.W56 301.248 76-40100
ISBN 0-262-23078-X (hardcover)
ISBN 0-262-73049-9 (paperback)

10

To my parents and Mrs. A

Contents

Preface ix
Introduction 2

Chapter 1

Autonomy and Mastery 13
Mastery and Its Loss 18
Autonomy and Animism 30

Chapter 2

Engines of Change 44

Momentum and Motive 46

Technological Evolution 57

Technological Determinism 73 »

Technological Drift: Uncertainty and Unintention 88
The Technological Imperative 100

Chapter 3

The Flaw and Its Origins 107
Nature and Western Civilization 108
The Victory of Technique 118

The Search for a ‘“‘New Ethic” 130

Chapter 4

Technocracy 135

Classical Technocracy 135
Technocracy and Liberalism 146

Contents vii

Chapter 5

Artifice and Order 173

The Technological Society: Groundwork 175
Technological Politics: Master and Slave Revisited
Order, Discipline, and Pace 191
Transformation and Incorporation 208

Reverse Adaptation 226

Chapter 6

Technological Politics 237

Reverse Adaptation and Control 238

The Technological Imperative and the State 251
The Revolution and Its Tools 262

Chapter 7

Complexity and the Loss of Agency 279
Complexity: Manifest and Concealed 282

The Loss of Agency in Technological Systems 295

Chapter 8

Frankenstein’s Problem 306
Technology as Legislation 317
Luddism as Epistemology 325

Notes 336

Index 375

187

Preface

The questions that inform this book spring from my coming to terms
with a set of problems in political and academic life of the past decade.
My concerns took shape at an institution, the University of California
at Berkeley, which had, for reasons its leaders thought eminently pro-
gressive, defined itself as a vast research, training, and social service
mechanism. As it pursued that end, its philosophy began to exemplify a
smode of human relationships that I here describe as technological
politics. That model eventually came to grief in a situation that cast
major social issues of the 1960s and early 1970s—civil rights, Vietnam,
racism, and militarism—at the door of the ‘“‘multiversity.”’ In the lively
and sometimes violent controversies of that period, Berkeley became a
place in which politics in the plaza and learning in the classroom were
never far removed. This was especially true for those of us fortunate to
be studying political theory and intellectual history during those years.
For whatever one’s position on the war or latest university controversy
happened to be, the lectures, sections, and readings on Thucydides,
Aristotle, Hobbes, Locke, or Marx always seemed directly suited to
dilemmas immediately at hand.

I wish to express special thanks to my teachers at Berkeley—Sheldon
Wolin, John Schaar, Hanna Pitkin, Norman Jacobson, and Thomas
Morrison—whose ability to mix scholarly concerns with broader human
commitments is an inspiration to all who study with them. My involve-
ment with issues of political thought, which they encouraged, was later
given focus by the questions about technology and politics raised by
Todd La Porte, a man whose interest in my work made it possible for
me to continue when I might otherwise have stopped. Sheldon Wolin
read the manuscript in its earliest stages and made many helpful sugges-
tions about the direction it might take. Later drafts were considerably
improved by the comments of Darrell Hawthorne, Jim Miller, Ira
Kurzban, Todd La Porte, Robert Biller, and my colleagues at M.I.T.,
Miles Morgan, Charles Weiner, Nathan Sivin, and Joseph Weizenbaum.
To Hanna Pitkin, Kai Lee, and Herman van Gunsteren I owe a special
debt for their line-by-line commentaries on my writing. This would be
a much better, albeit much longer book if I had followed all of their

Prefnce x

suggestions. As it is, I thank them for steering me through a number of
difficulties and toward a project that now extends far beyond the con-
fines of this one statement. Don Van Vliet, who does not read manu-
scripts, influenced much of what appears here through his sense of the
comedy of nature and artifice. The friendship and encouragement of
Greil Marcus and Bruce Miroff have often sustained me in this and
other work.

What the reader finds here is a detailed treatment of a theme rele-
vant to political theory, which, it seems to me, has never received suffi-
cient attention. Ideological presuppositions in radical, conservative, and
liberal thought have tended to prevent discussion of a problem in tech-
nics and politics that has forced itself onto the agenda of our times.
The probiem was first and most powerfully raised for me by a speaker
on the steps of Sproul Hall in December 1964. ‘‘There is a time,” his
voice rang out, “when the operation of the machine becomes so odious,
makes you so sick at heart that you can’t take part; you can’t even pas-
sively: take part, and you’ve got to put your bodies upon the gears and
upon the wheels, upon the levers, upon all the apparatus and you’ve
got to make it stop. And’ you've got to indicate to the people who run
it, to the people who own it, that unless you’re free, the machine will
be prevented from working at all.” :

Those words marked a turning point for the student generation of
that decade and gave me the first glimmerings of my subject here. Con-
cealed in them was a contradiction, which events of subsequent years
have made clear, that there are institutions one must oppose and
struggle to modify even though one also has considerable affection for

them.

Autonomous Technology

Introduction

In one disguise or another, technology has been a central theme in po-
(ltlenl thought for the past two hundred years. Although the definition
of the issue of concern has again and again shifted, it has been clear
during this time that there is something in the nature of modern tech-
nology thinkers can ill afford to ignore. A partial catalog of the topics
that have been associated with various aspects of modern technics
would include the following: the industrial revolution and the rise of
industrial society, the ascendancy of the middle class, the possibility of
utopia, the misery of the working class and the necessity of revolution,
the rise of new elites, the social and psychological turmoil involved in
rapid change, alienation, nationalism, imperialism, leisure, and the pos-
sibility of ecological disaster.

Despite its widely acknowledged importance, however, technology
itself has seldom been a primary subject matter for political or social
inquiries. While technological developments are commonly cited as
among the most important causes of the shape of modern society, the
tendency has been to see the matter solely in terms of economics and
economic history, perspectives that due to their special mode of ab-
straction and selectivity give us a very limited vision of the role technics
have played in modern history. Writers who have suggested the eleva-
tion of technology-related questions to a more central position—William
F. Ogburn, Lewis Mumford, Leslie White, and others—have for the most
part been politely ignored. The prevalent opinion has remained that the
true problems of modernity could best be understood in ways that ex-
cluded all direct reference to the technical sphere. Technology could be
left to the technicians.

In recent years, however, the prevailing winds of neglect have begun
to shift. Technology and its various manifestations have become virtual
obsessions in discussions about politics and society on a wide variety of
fronts. Social scientists, politicians, bureaucrats, corporate managers,
radical students, as well as natural scientists and engineers, are now
united in the conclusion that something we call ‘“‘technology” lies at the
core of what is most troublesome in the condition of our world.

There is, of course, little agreement as to the nature of the problem

Introduction 3

or about the approach that an intelligent person should take in the
quest for understanding. In the eyes of scientists and technicians, the
issue takes the form of a moral dilemma that hovers menacingly over
their work. Since World War II they have become increasingly sensitive
to the fact that scientific technologies have profound and often unfor-
tunate consequences in the world at large. With the neutrality of their
professions and products now in question, they have begun intensive
inquiries into the political and ethical context in which their activities
exist.! .

From the point of view of social scientists and managers, the crucial
issues are those of the increasing complexity and rate of change in
modern society. Developments in the technical sphere continually out-
pace the capacity of individuals and social systems to adapt. As the rate
of technological innovation quickens, it becomes increasingly important
and increasingly difficult to predict the range of effects that a given
innovation will have. When compounded by the increasing complexity
of sociotechnical systems, these changes make it more and more diffi-
cult to carry out some of the most basic activities of contemporary
social life: planning, design, and functional coordination. For this
reason complexity and change are increasingly studied as “independent
variables” said to have objectively knowable correlations to certain
kinds of social and political phenomena.”

In other modes of interpretation, however, the concerns of the natu-
ral and social scientists are held to be trivial, self-serving, and beside the
point. Radical critics of “the technological society” in both Europe and
America have insisted that what deserves our attention is not the rate of
technological innovation and its effects but rather the very existence of
advanced technology in the life of man. Technology is, according to
this view, a source of domination that effectively rules all forms of
modern thought and activity. Whether by an inherent property or by an
incidental set of circumstances, technology looms as an oppressive force
that poses a direct threat to human freedom. In the words of Allen
Ginsberg, ‘“‘Ourselves caught in the giant machine are conditioned to its
terms, only holy vision or technological catastrophe or revolution break °

Introduction 4

‘the mind-forg’d manacles.’”? A slogan of the Black Panther party,
“The spirit of the people is greater than the man’s technology,” expres-
ses the conviction that someday the system of domination will be over-
come, a testable hypothesis somewhat different from those social scien-
tists currently ponder.*

Technology is a word whose time has come. Its rise as a conscious
problem in a wide variety of social and political theories requires some
explanation. We are now faced with an odd situation in which one ob-
server after another ‘discovers’ technology and announces it to the
world as something new. The fact is, of course, that there is nothing
novel about technics, technological change, or advanced technological
societies. One can argue that medieval Europe was a highly sophisti-
cated technological society of a certain sort, involved in a fairly rapid,
continuing process of sociotechnical‘ change. One does not have to wait
for the industrial revolution or the so-called postindustrial period of the
twentieth century to see political societies remolded in response to
technical innovation. We are justified in asking, then, why this topic
should suddenly arise as a matter of intense concern.

Paul Goodman once suggested that the widespread uneasiness about
science and technology amounts to a religious upheaval similar to that
of the Protestant Reformation. “Science,’’ he explained, “‘has long been
the chief orthodoxy of modern times. And precisely science which
should have been the wind of truth to clear the air, has polluted the air,
helped to brainwash, and provided the weapons of war.” Current
protests surrounding the military-industrial complex are in effect a call
for a return to “the high tradition of science and technology” much
like Luther’s call for a new affirmation of the true Christian faith. A

reformed scientific technology would reemphasize the ideals which, :

according to Goodman, once guided its progress: prudence, decentrali-
zation, ecology, and incorruptibility. Lewis Mumford holds much the
same view. There is, he believes, a humane tradition of science and tech-
nology based on “an earth-centered, organic, and human model’ to
which Western civilization must return if it is to avoid the disastrous
course of the “‘megamachine.’6 “For its effective salvation,” Mumford

Introduction 5

warns, “mankind will need to undergo something like a spontaneous
religious conversion: one that will replace the mechanical worid picture,
and give to the human personality, as the highest manifestation of life,
the precedence it now gives to machines and computers.”

While such analogies of religious crisis help to iiluminate the outrage
present in much of the contemporary criticism of technology, they fail
to capture an important characteristic of the discussion—its pervasive
sense of puzzlement and disorientation. The writers who have isolated
technology as an issue have repeatedly stressed that what is involved is
not merely a problem of values or faith but, more imporiantly, a prob-
lem in our understanding of things. There is, they assert, something
wrong in the way we view technology and man’s relationship to it. In
its present array of vast and complex forms, technology continually
surprises us and baffles our attempts at comprehension. From all sides
one hears the call for new evidence and new interpretations to remedy
our disoriented state.

In this regard I would suggest that we supplement Goodman’s New
Reformation with what may be a more appropriate historical analogy,
the scientific revolution. In the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries,
after hundreds of years of relatively stable scientific belief, the reaim of
nature was suddenly cast open to question. The discoveries of Coperni-
cus, Galileo, Kepler, Vesalius, and others placed all of God’s creations
in a new and surprising light—a light that inspired generations of inquiry
into natural phenomena and resulted in a totally new conception of the
physical universe and man’s place within it. As Thomasso Campanella
poignantly expressed it, “If Galilei’s conclusions are right . . . we shall
have to philosophize in a new way.”'8

In much the same manner the realm of technology has become an
open question for the present age. After centuries in which technical
artifice was of little interest outside the confines of its own develop-
ment and practice, the nature of man’s own creations has now emerged
as a source of genuine perplexity. The technological world that the
scientific revolution helped bring into being has itself become a focus
of new inquiry. The crucial insight which occasions this new awakening

IntroducHlon = 6

la nothing so profound as the disclosure of Copernicus’s De Revolu-
thondbus that the earth revolves around the sun rather than vice versa.
It In Instead roughly equivalent to the realization that the sun rises in
the morning and sets in the evening; for the astonishing fact that one
thinker after another has stumbled upon is merely this: technology in
Its various manifestations is a significant part of the human world. Its
structures, processes, and alterations enter into and become part of thé
structures, processes, and alterations of human consciousness, society,
and politics. The remarkable impact of Marshall McLuhan and Jacques
Ellul rests on their ability to sensitize modern audiences to something
they had overlooked: we are surrounded on all sides (possibly even the
inner side) by a myriad of techniques and technologies. Apparently
these influences had become so much a part of everyday life that they
had become virtually invisible. The changes and disruptions that an
evolving technology repeatedly caused in modern life were accepted as
given or inevitable simply because no one bothered to ask whether
there were other possiblities. It is for this reason that the discussion
about the place of technology in human existence requires much more
than facile talk about how well or how poorly technology accords with
“human values.”? One can paraphrase Campanella in saying that if the
observations of Ellul, McLuhan, Marcuse, Mumford, Sypher, Galbraith,
and others are correct, we shall have to do at least some of the work of
social science and political theory in a new way.

The analogy here, like most other analogies, is valid only if taken in
moderation. In mentioning the scientific revolution in the same breath
as our present questions about technology, I am not asking the reader
to trace out all conceivable similarities between a science of nature and a
science of artifice. In particular, I am not suggesting that the issues here
are solely ‘‘empirical’’ ones that can be handled through improved
social scientific methodology. The tendency in research of that kind is
to define all problems as those of ‘‘change”’ and to gather data relevant
to selected correlations. While such work is sometimes interesting, I
have never been convinced that the crucial questions at hand are best
studied in terms of ‘“‘change.”’ If there were never another technological

Introduction 7

breakthrough, innovation, or advance, and never another social, eco-
logical, or political consequence, we would still face a host of problems
about the meaning of technology in the life of man. Much of social
scientific research in this area amounts to a triumph of instrumentation
—virtuosity in measuring and comparing quantifiable variables—rather
than an earnest effort to advance our understanding.

But it is not clear that we would know what to do with the new
models and data even if we had them. Where does one encounter a rich
and lively discussion about the practical, moral, and political context in
which these findings make sense? Almost nowhere. The hope is that a
new study of technological affairs would bring together the relevant
spheres of knowledge, judgment, and action in a way that might point
to more intelligent choices. Technology, after all, is inherently prag-
matic. It deals with establishing what one wants and how one wants to
pursue it. But in almost every book or article on the subject the discus-
sion stalls on the same sterile conclusion: “We have demonstrated the
relationship between Technology X and social changes A, B, and C.
Obviously, Technology X has implications for astounding good or evil.
It is now up to mankind to decide which the case will be.”

Poor mankind. Although freshly equipped with the best findings of
social science, it is still left holding the bag. At this point the fact-
value distinction, considered as a moral imperative, has its most lethal
effects. The social scientist, presumably the person who knows most
about the issues at hand, ceases to inquire into the practical implica-
tions of his own work. To go further, he believes, is to tread on the soil
of “values,” an area that he holds to be little more than a tortuous field
of personal preferences, prejudice, and half-brained moralism. The idea
that there could be a reasonable basis upon which one could arrive at
general conclusions about wise or unwise choices for political society is
totally foreign to him. After he explains the relationships found in the
data, his contribution ends.

The truth of the matter is that our deficiency does not lie in the
want of well-verified “facts.” What we lack is our bearings. The contem-
porary experience of things technological has repeatedly confounded

lntraduciion =f

aur vislon, Our expectations, and our capacity to make intelligent judg-
ments, Categories, arguments, conclusions, and choices that would have
heen entirely obvious in earlier times are obvious no longer. Patterns of
perceptive thinking that were entirely reliable in the past now lead us
systematically astray. Many of our standard conceptions of technology
reveal|a disorientation that borders on dissociation from reality. And as
long as we lack the ability to make our situation intelligible, all of the
“data” in the world will make no difference.

A good illustration of this state of disorientation can be seen in the
peculiar way in which the word technology appears in academic and
everyday speech. In past decades the term had a very specific, limited,
and unproblematic meaning. Persons who employed the term spoke of
a “practical art,” ‘“‘the study of the practical arts,” or “the practical
arts collectively.” In the literature of the eighteenth and nineteenth
centuries, such meanings were clear and were not the occasion for de-
liberation or analysis. Technology, in fact, was not an important term
in descriptions of that part of the world we would now call technologi-
cal. Most people spoke directly of machines, tools, factories, industry,
crafts, and engineering and did not worry about “technology” as a
distinctive phenomenon. :

In the twentieth century, however, the linguistic convention has
gradually changed. Technology has expanded rapidly in both its deno-
tative and connotative meanings. It is now widely used in ordinary and
academic speech to talk about an unbelievably diverse collection of
phenomena—tools, instruments, machines, organizations, methods,
techniques, systems, and the totality of all these and similar things in
our experience. The shift in meaning from something relatively precise,
limited, and unimportant to something vague, expansive, and highly
significant can be traced through the definitions in Webster’s una-
bridged dictionary. In Webster’s:‘Second International (1909) the word
is said to mean “industrial science, the science or systematic knowledge
of the industrial arts, especially of the more important manufactures.”
In Webster’s Third New International (1961), however, the definition
blossomed into the following: ‘‘the totality of means employed by a

Introduction 9

people to provide itself with the objects of material culture.’’ Today,
even this definition seems too narrow, for if we notice how the word is
actually employed, it certainly covers much more than just the material
objects of culture. Some of the most intriguing new technologies have
to do with the alteration of psychological or spiritual states.

Many persons find it uncomfortable to leave the meaning of tech-
nology in this form. Social scientists usually insist that a precise,
manageable operational definition be hammered out. From their point
of view, if this is not done we will surely find ourselves in the position
of Jacques Ellul who defines his central concept, la technique, as “‘the
totality of methods rationally arrived at and having absolute efficiency
(for a given stage of development) in every field of human activity.”!©
Such a definition, Ellul’s critics complain, is overly broad and does not
approach the meaning of our word technology. I disagree. While Ellul’s
addition of ‘absolute efficiency” may cause us difficulties, his notion
of technique as the totality of rational methods closely corresponds to
the term technology as now used in everyday English. Ellul’s la tech-
nique and our technology both point to a vast, diverse, ubiquitous
totality that stands at the center of modern culture. Both include a
substantial portion of what we make and what we do.

There is, of course, nothing unusual in the discovery that an im-
portant term is ambiguous or imprecise or that it covers a wide diversity
of situations. Wittgenstein’s discussion of ‘language games’? and
“family resemblances” in Philosophical Investigations illustrates how
frequently this occurs in ordinary language. For many of our most
important concepts, it is futile to look for a common element in the
phenomena to which the concept refers. ‘‘Look and see whether there
is anything common to all.—For if you look at them you will not see
something that is common to all, but similarities, relationships, and a
whole series of them at that.’””!!

What is interesting in this case, however, is that a concept that was
once very specific in the way it was used has now become amorphous in
the extreme. There is a tendency among those who write or talk about
technology in our time to conclude that technology is everything and

Introduction 10

everything is technology. In a dialectic of concepts that Hegel would
have appreciated, the word has come to mean everything and anything;
it therefore threatens to mean nothing.

For those who would listen to language rather than perform elabo-
rate operations on it, this annoying symptom will not be taken as an
occasion to impose an arbitrary definition. It should be seen as an
interesting sign. What does this chaotic use of the term technology
indicate to us?

An answer to this question is that while the sphere of technics one
wishes to talk about has grown rapidly, the linguistic resources of pub-
lic discourse have changed little at all. Specialists in the various sub-
divisions of technology have developed concepts to make their own
sphere of activity intelligible to them; but for the most part these con-
cepts remain foreign and even mysterious to the nonspecialist or the
specialist of another field. The same concepts useful in building and
maintaining a given technology are not those useful in understanding
its broader implications for the human community. In this sense the
confusion surrounding the concept “technology” is an indication of
a kind of lag in public language, that is, a failure of both ordinary
speech and social scientific discourse to keep pace with the reality that
needs to be discussed. ‘‘Technology,”’ therefore, is applied haphazardly
to a staggering collection of phenomena, many of which are recent
additions to our world. One feels’that there must be a better way of
expressing oneself about these developments, but at present our
concepts fail us.

One consequence of this state of affairs is that discussions of the po-
litical implications of advanced technology have a tendency to slide
into a polarity of good versus evil. Because there is no middle ground
for talking about such things, statements often end up being expres-
sions of total affirmation or total denial. One either hates technology or
loves it. In my own attempts to speak with scientists, engineers, and
managers over the years, I have again and again run into responses that
refuse to tolerate any ambiguity on this cherished, threadbare di-
chotomy. I have tried to point out that America has for too long

Introduction 11

substituted technical solutions for problems that were either political or
moral in nature. I have suggested that there might be some desirable
alternatives to the ways in which we now employ various kinds of tech-
nology—for example, other ways of structuring the use of television
than our present nationwide, corporate-owned networks. As innocuous
as these views are, they are often taken as a threat. Any criticism of
sociotechnical practice could only be vile opposition. ‘“You’re just
using technology as a whipping boy,” the response comes back. “‘You
just want to stop progress and send us back to the Middle Ages with
peasants dancing on the green.”

A typical response of engineers, for example, is to announce that
they are merely problem solvers. ‘Tell us the problem,” they demand.
“We will find a solution. That’s our job. But you may not presume to
question the nature of our solution. You are not a member of a tech-
nical profession and, therefore, know nothing of relevance. If you insist
on raising questions about the appropriateness of the means we devise,
we can only conclude that you are antitechnology.”’

It soon becomes clear that in this enlightened age there is almost no
middle ground of rational discourse, no available common language
with which persons of differing backgrounds can discuss matters of
technology in thoughtful, critical terms. Conversations gravitate toward
warring polarities and choosing sides. One source of fascination in my
inquiries has been that existing discussions are often thoroughly nerv-
ous, even hysterical. When intelligent persons can become so upset over
such ostensibly mundane matters, there is something peculiar going on.

It is not possible to clear up the inadequacies in our speech habits
with a single stroke. But I shall offer some basic distinctions that I will
be using in my writing here.

First I want to note the class of objects we normally refer to as tech-
nological—tools, instruments, machines, appliances, weapons, gadgets—
which are used in accomplishing a wide variety of tasks. In speaking of
objects of this sort I shall employ the term<@pparatus) For many per-
sons, “technology” actually means apparatus, that is, the Physical _

devices of technical pecformance.~

Intvaduedlan 12

1 alwo want to mark the whole body of technical activities—skills,

methods, procedures, routines—that people engage in to accomplish
{uakw und include such activities under the rubric technique, The root
of this word is the Greek techné (“‘art,” “craft,” or “skill’’), which
linguists have further traced to the Indo-European root teks- (“to weave
or fabricate”). From the earliest times, technique has been distin-
guished from other modes of human action by its purposive, rational
step-by-step way of doing things.

In addition “technology” frequently refers to some (but not all)
varieties of social organization—factories, workshops, bureaucracies,
armies, research and development teams, and the like. For my uses
here, the term organization will signify all varieties of technical (ra-
tional-productive) social arrangements. Another closely related’ term—
network—will mark those large-scale systems that combine people and
apparatus linked across great distances. _

I am not a lexicographer and do not wish to legislate usage. These
distinctions represent a modest attempt to bring a measure of order to
a conversation that has lacked’ order so far, an attempt the rest of the
book will continue. With this preliminary groundwork taken care of,
let us turn to the central theme guiding our inquiries.

Chapter 1
Autonomy and Mastery

So the whole question comes down to this: can the human mind master
what the human mind has made?
—Paul Valery

One symptom of a profound stress that affects modern thought is the
prevalence of the idea of autonomous technology—the belief that some-
how technology has gotten out of control and follows its own course,
independent of human direction. That this notion is (at least on the
surface) patently bizarre has not prevented it from becoming a central
obsession in nineteenth- and twentieth-century literature. For some
time now, the writings of many of our most notable poets, novelists,
scientists, and philosophers have been haunted by the fear that some-
how technology has ‘‘run amok,”’ is “no longer guided by human pur-
poses,” is “‘self-directing,”’ or has ‘‘escaped all reasonable limits.’’ Often
occurring as a frank confession in the writings of an otherwise level-
headed, well-respected individual, the vision of technology out-of-
control has taken a wide variety of forms. In his book Physics and
Philosophy, Werner Heisenberg looks back over his work in quantum
physics and concludes that he has unwittingly contributed to the rise
of an uncontained historical force. ‘The enormous success of this com-
bination of natural and technical science,” he writes, “led to a strong
preponderance of those nations or states or communities in which this
kind of activity flourished, and as a natural consequence this activity
had to be taken up even by those nations which by tradition would not
have been inclined toward natural and technical sciences. The modern
means of communication and of traffic finally completed this process
of expansion of technical civilization. Undoubtedly the process has
fundamentally changed the conditions of life on earth; and whether
one approves of it or not, whether one calls it progress or danger, one
must realize that it has gone far beyond any control through human
forces. One may rather consider it as a biological process on the largest
scale whereby the structures active in the human organism encroach on
larger parts of matter and transform it into a state suited for the in-

creasing human population.””!

Alonomoun Technology 14

In John Kenneth Galbraith’s The New Industrial State the notion
appears as a stern warning to the American public. “I am led to the con-
clusion, which I trust others will find persuasive,” Galbraith avers, ‘“‘that
we are becoming the servants in thought, as in action, of the machine
we have created to serve us.”2 In So Human an Animal, René Dubos,
the noted biologist, offers a view that combines conviction and total
incredulity: “Technology cannot theoretically escape from human con-
trol, but in practice it is proceeding on an essentially independent
course.’”? “Planning for better defined and worthwhile human goals has
become urgent if we are to avoid the technological take-over and make
technology once more the servant of man instead of his master.’
Martin Heidegger, in Discourse on Thinking, asserts that the process has
moved far beyond any possible repeal: ‘‘No one can foresee the radical
changes to come. But technological advance will move faster and faster
and can never be stopped. In all areas of his existence, man will be en-
circled ever more tightly by the forces of technology. These forces,
which everywhere and every minute claim, enchain, drag along, press
and impose upon man under the form of some technical contrivance or
other—these forces ... have moved long since beyond his will and have
outgrown his capacity for decision.’”°

Until recently, concerns of this sort were the exclusive property of a
small segment of the academic community. But during the last several
years the idea of autonomous technology has gained considerable
public attention. Observations to the effect that technology is ‘‘out of
control” are commonly found in books atop the best-seller lists in the
United States. The same opinion has become a cornerstone of the popu-
lar movement that marches forward under the ambiguous banner of
“ecology.” The notion is abroad in the land that “‘the forces of tech-
nology and commodity, allowed to have their own way without
guidance or control of intervening values have created a culture which is
profoundly hostile to life.6 Technological innovation, it is said, has
become so rapid and pervasive that it threatens to destroy all vestiges of
permanence, continuity, and security in modern society. ‘““Technology

Autonomy and Mastery 15

must be tamed, if the accelerative thrust is to be brought under
control.” ”

The newly emergent vogue of the idea makes it clear that, if nothing
else, “autonomous technology” has enough intuitive plausibility to
stand as a convenient receptacle for a host of contemporary anxieties.
In his memoirs Albert Speer, Hitler’s minister of armaments and war
production, finds it possible to hold up runaway technology as a partial
excuse for the barbarism of the Nazi regime. ‘The criminal events of
those years,’”’ Speer observes, ‘“‘were not only an outgrowth of Hitler’s
personality. The extent of the crimes was also due to the fact that
Hitler was the first to be able to employ the implements of technology
to multiply crime.’8 Quoting from his testimony at the Nuremberg
trial, Speer continues, “The more technological the world becomes, the
greater is the danger.... As the former minister in charge of a highly
developed armaments economy it is my last duty to state: A new great
war will end with the destruction of human culture and civilization.
There is nothing to stop unleashed technology and science from com-
pleting its work of destroying man which it has so terribly begun in this
war.””9

Given the historical context in which it stands, Speer’s attempted
apology does not succeed.!© The interesting fact is, nonetheless, that so
peculiar a defense could be offered at all and that it has been accepted
so willingly by Speer’s European and American audience. Something we
all understand about the twentieth century makes the plea of Albert
Speer and Adolf Eichmann, “I am a humble victim of autonomous
technology,” an intelligible, albeit still unjustifiable excuse.

In the present discussion the term autonomous technology is under-
stood to b be a _ general-label. for all conceptions and observations to the
effect that technology. is somehow out of control by human agency.

My use of this notion stems most directly. from-Jacques-EHul’s-autono-
mous technique. According to Ellul, _“Technique has become _autono-_

mous; it | has fashioned an omnivorous world which obeys. its own laws
and which i has renounced | all ‘tradition. ” | The theories I will examine

Autonomous Technology 16

here all maintain, i in one € way or another, that far from being controlled

ie
by the desired and rz rational ends of human beings, technology i in a real

sense now governs its own co: course, » speed, and destination. ~~

The ‘concept of autonomy is particularly expressive in this context.
Ellul is by no means the only person to have found a significant use for
it in describing the technological society. Bruno Bettelheim has written
of the threat to individual autonomy in a mass age,!2 while Galbraith
warns of the apparent autonomy of the “‘technostructure” in the new
industrial state. “Autonomy” is at heart a political or moral conception
that brings together the ideas of freedom and control. To be autono-
mous is to be self-governing, independent, not ruled by an external law
or force. In the metaphysics of Immanuel Kant, autonomy refers to the
fundamental condition of free will—the capacity of the will to follow
moral-laws which it gives to itself. Kant opposes this idea to “‘heteron-
omy,” the rule of the will by external laws, namely the deterministic
laws of nature.!3 In this light the very mention of autonomous tech-
nology raises an unsettling irony, for the expected relationship of
subject and object is exactly reversed. We are now reading all of the
propositions backward. To say that technology is autonomous is to say
that it is nonheteronomous, not governed by an external law. And what
is the external law appropriate to technology? Human will, it would
seem. But if technology can be shown to be nonheteronomous, what
does this say about human will? Ellul is explicit on this point: ‘There
can be no human autonomy in the face of technical autonomy.” !4 In
his eyes there is a one-for-one exchange.

The rise of notions of autonomous technology in Western literature
has, in fact, come side by side with frequent and enthusiastic attacks on
the idea of human autonomy. Especially in the more extreme reaches
of behaviorist psychology and cybernetics, the idea of a self-governing
human will is now thought to be a tired anachronism. In B. F. Skinner’s
Beyond Freedom and Dignity we learn that “a scientific analysis of be-
havior dispossesses autonomous man and turns the control he has been
said to exert over to the environment.’’!5 Skinner’s work tries to

disabuse us of the illusion of personal autonomy and its associated con-

Autonomy and Mastery 17

cerns, freedom and responsibility. The alternative to autonomous man
in Skinner’s writing is very clear. It is technology—in particular, the
technology of behavior control. “In trying to solve the terrifying prob-
lems that face us in the world today,’ he observes, ‘‘we naturally turn
to the things we do best. We play from strength, and our strength is
science and technology.” !6 “What is needed is a technology of be-
havior, but we have been slow to develop the science from which such a
technology might be drawn.” 7

My aim in this work is to identify a variety of notions of autono-
mous technology, to examine their basic rationale, and to inquire into
the problems they suggest. In this regard, autonomous technology is
a methodological touchstone, a clue leading to a number of larger
issues. In some views the perception of technology-out-of-control is
associated with a process of change in which the human world is pro-
gressively transformed and incorporated by an expanding scientific
technology. In others the perception focuses upon the behavior of
large-scale technical systems that appear to operate and grow through a
process of self-generation beyond human intervention. In others still,
the matter is primarily that of individuals dwarfed by the complex
apparatus surrounding them, which they must employ if they are to sur-
vive. I shall be asking: What is involved in these complaints? What, if
anything, is their truth? Along the way we will tackle concepts that are
among the most perplexing in all of modern thought—technological
dynamism, determinism, historical drift, technical imperatives, technoc-
racy, and the like.

There are some obvious objections to the approach I have adopted
here. My commitment to a perspective which takes technology as its
primary focus and technological autonomy as its fundamental puzzle
will no doubt be cause for some misgivings. In Utopia and Its Enemies,
for example, George Kateb scoffs at the idea “that somehow machines
will develop a volition of their own, independent of their makers and
come eventually to change roles with man and make men their ser-
vants.” !8 Such views, he contends, reflect only fear and hatred of the
machine, “amongst the stalest and most pervasive emotions of modern

Autonomous Technology 18

life.” 19 Those who see the world in this way deny the utopian possi-
bilities that modern technology offers mankind.

For different reasons, Seymour Melman criticizes the notion of
autonomous military technology in his Pentagon Capitalism. In his eyes
the idea can be only a political cul de sac. “I am uneasy,” he observes,
“about theories viewing man as the captive of his weapons. This is a
self-defeating mode of understanding, rather different from identify-
ing the top decision-makers and their mode of control. Men may be
captives, but only of other men. The concept of man in the grip of a
Frankenstein weapons system has a severely limiting effect on our
ability to do anything about it, if that is desired.” 29

Criticisms of this sort make a great deal of sense. I would be the first
to admit that the approach I have chosen is one-sided and that it ex-
cludes much that is important in political and social life. I would also
allow that there are some very real dangers in the view that technology
and science are autonomous. Such notions have in the past sometimes
accompanied philosophies which were virulently antimodern and even
fascist.2!

My justification in taking the present approach is that there are some
significant questions here that the more obvious ways of talking about
politics and technology have been prone to ignore. One way of raising
these issues from concealment is to begin by looking at them in their
most vivid outlines. From symptomology we can then move towards a
reasonable -diagnosis. Much of the writing on politics and technology
today begins with the rational, concrete signs and moves from there
gradually toward the incredible specter of autonomous technology. My
choice is to work backward, or at least differently, in the hope of arriv-

ing at a more intelligent destination.

Mastery and Its Loss

Our starting point is the fact that the idea of autonomous technology
has recurrently gained adherents in many widely separated branches of
learning. From the beginning of the nineteenth century to the present

Autonomy and Mastery 19

day, the notion has perplexed the likes of Thomas Carlyle, Charles
Dickens, Ralph Waldo Emerson, Nathaniel Hawthorne, Henry Thoreau,
Mark Twain, Henry Adams, John Ruskin, William Morris, E. E. Cum-
mings, George Orwell, Marcel Duchamp, and Kurt Vonnegut, to name
just a few. In one definition or another autonomous technology is now
a significant transdisciplinary hypothesis in the natural and social
sciences, the arts, journalism, and even the technical specialties them-
selves.

But how can this be? How can we account for the fact that so many
intelligent persons have embraced an idea so strange and unlikely?

The common element in notions of this kind is not so much a feel-
ing of ambivalence about modern technics or even a loss of faith in the
link between technological development and human progress. It is,
rather, a sense that many of our most fundamental expectations about
the technical sphere no longer hold. Common sense and the traditional
view of technics do not always provide a reliable guide to our everyday
experience with technological phenomena. In this sense, reports of au-
tonomous technology can be interpreted as signs of a disorder of the
mind at the collapse of an ordinary point of view. Let us examine the
traditional perspective and seek out its present vulnerability.

The conclusion that something is “out of control’ is interesting to
us only insofar as we expect that it ought to be in control in the first
place. Not all cultures, for example, share our insistence that the ability
to control things is a necessary prerequisite of human survival. There
are peoples who have lived and prospered under the belief that an
inherent harmony or beneficence in nature would provide for their
needs. Western culture, however, has long believed that its continued
existence and advancement depend upon the ability to manipulate the
circumstances of the material world. In a spirit that many have called
Faustian, we believe that control is possible and that we must strive for
it. As a both necessary and noble aspect of Western self-identity, we
strive to isolate the variable conditions of the environment and manipu-

late them for our own advantage.

Autonomous Technology 20

The concern of science and technology with the possibilities of con-
trol have often found expression in terms which closely parallel the lan-
guage of politics. This is perhaps not surprising if one recalls that both
politics and technics have as their central focus the sources and exercise
of power. Our thinking about technology, however, seems inextricably
bound to a single conception of the manner in which power is used—the
style of absolute mastery, the despotic, one-way control of the master
over the slave. Other notions central to the historical discussion of
political power—membership, participation, and authority founded on
consent—seem to have no relevance in this sphere. In our traditional
ways of thinking, the concept of mastery and the master-slave meta-
phor are the dominant ways of describing man’s relationship to nature,
as well as to the implements of technology.

Much of the existing literature, for example, holds that technology
and the human slave are exact equivalents, even to the point that they
are functionally interchangeable. Historians of science speculate that
one reason why Greek technology never developed to its full potential
was the presence of the institution of slavery in Greek city-states. Ac-
cording to E. J. Dijksterhuis, ‘The fact that living machines could be
used at will, no doubt diminished the need for inanimate implements,
the more so because no humanitarian consideration formed a motive
for calling in the aid of such implements. If machines, however, were
deemed superfluous because they were slaves... , a vicious circle must
have been created: for want of machines the slave could not be dis-
pensed with.”22 The virtual equivalence of slave and machine plays a
prominent role in Aristotle’s discussion of slavery in the Politics.
Aristotle explains that the instruments available to a man who owns
property are of two sorts— animate and inanimate. The animate instru-
ments, human slaves, are “‘prior to other instruments’’ in the sense that
they must be present before the inanimate instruments can be used.
‘There is only one condition,” Aristotle comments, ‘tin which we can
imagine managers not needing subordinates, and masters not needing

slaves. This condition would be that each [inanimate] instrument could
do its own work, at the word of command or by intelligent anticipa-

Autonomy and Mastery 21

tion, like the statues of Daedalus or the tripod made by Hephaestus, of
which Homer relates that ‘of their own motion they entered the con-
clave of Gods on Olympus,’ as if a shuttle should weave of itself, and
a plectrum should do its own harp-playing.” 23

Contemporary discussions of automation echo Aristotle’s conclu-
sion. It is now possible for inanimate instruments to perform their own
work ‘‘at the word of a command or by intelligent anticipation,” that
is, by a computer program. This development has led to conjecture that
the perfection of industrial technology will eventually liberate mankind
from toil. The metaphor employed by those who express this hope is
the same as that introduced 2,500 years ago: something must be en-
slaved in order that something else may win emancipation.

The theme of mastery in the literature of technology is even more
evident with regard to Western man’s relationship to nature. Here there
are seldom any reservations about man’s rightful role in conquering,
vanquishing, and subjugating everything natural. This is his power and
his glory. What would in other situations seem rather tawdry and des-
picable intentions are here the most honorable of virtues. Nature is the
universal prey, to manipulate as humans see fit.

In no place is this theme more clearly stated than in the writings of
the most famous early advocate of a world-transforming scientific rev-
lution, Francis Bacon. Book 1 of Novum Organum finds the philoso-
pher laying plans for a new science that will advance man’s understand-
ing of nature. Criticizing the illusions, dogmas, and methods of inquiry
of past philosophies, Bacon outlines a science that will combine rigor-
ous observation, experiment, inductive logic, and organized scientific
research. But although Bacon emphasizes the need for a new method in
his treatment, he also insists that the new science will require new ends.
“It is not possible,” he observes, ‘‘to run a course aright when the goal
itself has not been rightly placed. Now the true and lawful goal of the
sciences is none other than this: that human life be endowed with new
discoveries and powers.” 24 Bacon returns to this topic later, announc-
ing that it is time to ‘“‘say a few words touching the excellency of the
end in view.”25 His statement is an interesting one, for it establishes

Autonomous Technology 22

a direct comparison between the powers and goals of his new science
and the powers and goals of politics. He seeks to demonstrate that
scientific action is similar to political action, but that it is in all ways
superior.

Bacon begins by noting that former ages had always awarded “divine
honors” to those who made important discoveries or who were
“authors of inventions.” Persons of this stripe were esteemed far above
“those who did good service in the state (such as founders of cities and
empires, legislators, saviours of their country from endured evils,
quellers of tyrannies, and the like).” To political actors, former ages
“decreed no higher honour than heroic,” and rightly so. ‘For the bene-
fits of discoveries may extend to the whole race of man, civil benefits
only to particular places; the latter not beyond a few ages, the former
through all time.” 26 Bacon notes that science and the practical arts
had recently given the world three inventions—the printing press, gun-
powder, and the magnet—that made all political accomplishments pale
by comparison. ‘‘For these three have changed the whole face and state
of things throughout the world... insofar that no empire, no sect, no
star seems to have exerted greater power and influence in human affairs
than these mechanical discoveries.” 27

The point of the matter is not merely that the action of science and
technology brings a greater good over a greater area for a longer period
of time; it is also superior to politics because it provides a more noble
outlet for man’s aggressive impulses. Here Bacon distinguishes between
three kinds of ambition in mankind, two of which are political. “The
first,” he says, “is of those who desire to extend their own power in
their native country; which kind is vulgar and degenerate. The second is
of those who labour to extend the power of their country and its
dominion among men. This certainly has more dignity, though not less
covetousness.”28 The third kind of ambition, however, avoids these
moral pitfalls. “If a man endeavors to establish and extend the power
and dominion of the human race itself over the universe, his ambition
(if ambition it can be called) is without doubt both a more wholesome
thing and a more noble than the other two.” Bacon leaves no doubt as

Autonomy and Mastery 23

to how dominion of this sort will be established: “Now the empire of
man over things depends wholly on the arts and science. For we cannot
command nature except by obeying her.” 29

What was previously a political impulse—the desire for power, con-
quest, and empire—shall now become the guiding impulse of science
and technology. Men shall “obey” nature for as long as it takes to learn
her secrets. They will then command her as tyrants once commanded
their political subjects. Bacon clearly means to say that this change will
benefit the human race not only because science will improve material
well-being but also because those who crave power will turn to more
“wholesome” pursuits. Apparently an ambitious man must subjugate
something. And nature, unlike human beings, will not mind subjuga-
tion.

The success of Bacon’s program as a way of knowing, as a vision of
the world, and as a way of operating on material reality is perhaps the
most important of all accomplishments in modern history. The terms of
this accomplishment, to a large extent, define the conditions under
which we live. This is all the more extraordinary given the fact that in
earlier ambitious attempts, science and scientific technology had often
been spectacular failures. In Chaucer’s “Canon’s Yeoman’s Tale,” for
example, we read of a man (possibly Chaucer himself) who frittered
away his fortune on a scientific art, alchemy, which never brought him

any benefit at all:

When we had fixed a place to exercise

Our esoteric craft, we all looked wise;

Our terms were highly technical and quaint.
I blew the fire up til fit to faint... .

And how, d’you think? It happens, like as not,
There’s an explosion and good-bye the pot!
These metals are so violent when they split
Our very walls can scarce stand up to it....
Although the devil didn’t show his face

I’m pretty sure he was about the place.

In Hell itself where he is lord and master

a

al

Autonomous Technology 22

a direct comparison between the powers and goals of his new science
and the powers and goals of politics. He seeks to demonstrate that
scientific action is similar to political action, but that it is in all ways
superior.

Bacon begins by noting that former ages had always awarded “divine
honors” to those who made important discoveries or who were
“authors of inventions.”’ Persons of this stripe were esteemed far above
“those who did good service in the state (such as founders of cities and
empires, legislators, saviours of their country from endured evils,
quellers of tyrannies, and the like).’’ To political actors, former ages
“decreed no higher honour than heroic,” and rightly so. ‘“‘For the bene-
fits of discoveries may extend to the whole race of man, civil benefits
only to particular places; the latter not beyond a few ages, the former
through all time.” 26 Bacon notes that science and the practical arts
had recently given the world three inventions—the printing press, gun-
powder, and the magnet—that made all political accomplishments pale
by comparison. ‘‘For these three have changed the whole face and state
of things throughout the world... insofar that no empire, no sect, no
star seems to have exerted greater power and influence in human affairs
than these mechanical discoveries.” 27

The point of the matter is not merely that the action of science and
technology brings a greater good over a greater area for a longer period
of time; it is also superior to politics because it provides a more noble
outlet for man’s aggressive impulses. Here Bacon distinguishes between
three kinds of ambition in mankind, two of which are political. “The
first,”’ he says, “is of those who desire to extend their own power in
their native country; which kind is vulgar and degenerate. The second is
of those who labour to extend the power of their country and its
dominion among men. This certainly has more dignity, though not less
covetousness.”28 The third kind of ambition, however, avoids these
moral pitfalls. “If a man endeavors to establish and extend the power
and dominion of the human race itself over the universe, his ambition
(if ambition it can be called) is without doubt both a more wholesome
thing and a more noble than the other two.” Bacon leaves no doubt as

Autonomy and Mastery 23

to how dominion of this sort will be established: “Now the empire of
man over things depends wholly on the arts and science. For we cannot
command nature except by obeying her.” 29

What was previously a political impulse—the desire for power, con-
quest, and empire—shall now become the guiding impulse of science
and technology. Men shall ‘‘obey’’ nature for as long as it takes to learn
her secrets. They will then command her as tyrants once commanded
their political subjects. Bacon clearly means to say that this change will
benefit the human race not only because science will improve material
well-being but also because those who crave power will turn to more
“wholesome” pursuits. Apparently an ambitious man must subjugate
something. And nature, unlike human beings, will not mind subjuga-
tion.

The success of Bacon’s program as a way of knowing, as a vision of
the world, and as a way of operating on material reality is perhaps the
most important of all accomplishments in modern history. The terms of
this accomplishment, to a large extent, define the conditions under
which we live. This is all the more extraordinary given the fact that in
earlier ambitious attempts, science and scientific technology had often
been spectacular failures. In Chaucer’s ‘‘Canon’s Yeoman’s Tale,’”’ for
example, we read of a man (possibly Chaucer himself) who frittered
away his fortune on a scientific art, alchemy, which never brought him
any benefit at all:

When we had fixed a place to exercise

Our esoteric craft, we all looked wise;

Our terms were highly technical and quaint.
I blew the fire up til fit to faint. ...

And how, d’you think? It happens, like as not,
There’s an explosion and good-bye the pot!
These metals are so violent when they split
Our very walls can scarce stand up to it....
Although the devil didn’t show his face

I’m pretty sure he was about the place.

In Hell itself where he is lord and master

Autonomous Technology 24

There couldn’t be more rancour in disaster
Than when our pots exploded as I told you;
All think they’ve been let down and start to scold you....

My face is wan and wears a leaden look;

If you try science you’ll be brought to book.
My eyes are bleared with work on preparations,
That’s all the good you get from transmutations.
That slippery science stripped me down so bare
That I’m worth nothing, here or anywhere. 30

Incompetent, fumbling, and unproductive, the science of Chaucer’s
era was a waste of time and money. Up to and including the seven-
teenth century, science ran neck and neck with the quackery of the
occult. Even the greatest figures‘of the scientific revolution still dabbled
in the magical arts. Kepler was a confirmed astrologer; Newton tried
his hand at alchemy. The triumph of the Baconian model of science,
particularly in its technological applications, did not take place over-
night. Its promise long preceded its fulfillment; its advertisements and
advance men came long before its ability to deliver. Science in
Newton’s time was able to account for such things as the motion of the
planets, but it had little direct effect on the practical life of society. 3!
The enthusiasm of Diderot, d’Alembert, and the authors of the Ency-
clopedia for science and the mechanical arts was more a projection of
things to come than a realistic assessment of the existing state of affairs.
The consensus of historians of science and technology is that the wed-
ding of science and technics came only in the late nineteenth century,
with most of the progeny of this match arriving in the twentieth. 32

Science, then, succeeded first as a way of knowing and as a vision of
the world. Only later, as scientific technology, did it triumph as a
means of control and manipulation. In the end, however, its ultimate
success must be accounted to its fulfillment of Baconian ambitions—
the delivery of power. Other modes of knowing have been able to give
an intelligible, systematic, aesthetically pleasing picture of reality. If
science had only been able to accomplish this and nothing more, it is
likely that it would have been supplanted by yet another philosophy of

Autonomy and Mastery 25

inquiry. But in the West at least, the test is not so much what do you
know? or how elegant is your interpretation of worldly phenomena?
but rather, what can you actually do? This is the conclusive factor, the
reason that, for instance, social science has never fully established its
credentials in the halls of science. Science succeeds over rival ways of
knowing—poetry, religion, art, philosophy, the occult- not by its ability
to illuminate, not even by its ability to organize knowledge, but by its
ability to produce solid results. Space scientists demonstrate that they
know since they are able to fly a man to the moon and back. Physicists
must know since they are able to produce atomic weapons. In the last
analysis, the popular proof of science is technology. This is why we
consider Bacon prophetic, Paracelsus quaint.

One importance of the idea of autonomous technology is that it sets
out to debunk the dream of mastery by showing that it has gone awry
in practice. In modern speculation about technics, one thinker after
another has found it necessary to question the fundamental concep-
tions and beliefs that anchor the way Western men think about their
relationship to technological possibilities. In specific, one finds a set of
notions, once thought altogether reliable, which have become targets of
widespread doubt. They are:

—that men know best what they themselves have made;

—that the things men make are under their firm control;

—that technology is essentially neutral, a means to an end; the benefit
or harm it brings depends on how men use it.

In the conventional perspective works of technology are more than
certain; they are doubly certain. Since human beings are both the de-
signers and makers of their creations, they have precise knowledge of
their construction. They know exactly how things are put together and
how they can be taken apart. In addition, works of technology are
certain in the sense that their construction depends on the possession of
valid knowledge, either from mundané experience or from an appro-
priate science. In his Metaphysics Aristotle explains that techné (‘“‘art”’
or “‘craft”) is superior to mere experience because it combines these
two ways of knowing. “Art is born when out of the many bits of

Autonomous Technology 26

information derived from experience there emerges a grasp of these sim-
ilarities in view of which they are a unified whole.” “We believe that
knowing and understanding characterize art rather than experience....

Men of experience discern the fact ‘that,’ but not the reason ‘why’;

whereas experts know the reason why and explanation.”33 Aristotle
conjectures that the first man to invent an art or craft was looked upon
with wonder by his fellows, not only because there was something use-
ful in his discoveries but also because the others thought him wise and
superior. Master workers are presumably wiser not merely because they
are practical but because they have reasons and can explain what they
are doing .

That which men have made, they also control. This is common
sense. Control, after all, is part of the very design of technical creations.
Apparatus and techniques are devised with definite purposes in mind.
Through conscious manipulation of such means, menare able to achieve
ends established in advance. While it may require a period of time to
find instruments that will be effective, once discovered they are no
longer a source of difficulty. Technical means are, by their very nature,
mere tools subject to the will of whomever employs them. The fortui-
tous combination of certainty and control in technical activity has held
a great fascination for politics. Many historical forms of statecraft and
almost all conceptions of utopia rest on an implicitly technological
model. When conditions of the political world seem uncertain, un-
manageable, or otherwise undesirable, technique and artifice offer a
tantalizing solution. Through conscious resort to artificial means it is
conceivably possible, in the ironic words of Oscar Wilde, to ‘‘shield our-
selves from the sordid perils of actual existence.” If one could remake
the world, if one could fashion the conditions of reality to suit a pre-
conceived design, both certainty and control would be assured. This is
the solution Thomas Hobbes offered: ‘For by art is created that great
LEVIATHAN called a COMMONWEALTH, or STATE,” a political order
that would be more perfect since it was built from the ground up on
entirely rational principles. In one manifestation or another, this is also

Autonomy and Mastery 27

the prescription presented us by Plato, Saint-Simon, Owen, Madison,

and contemporary systems analysis.34

Technology is essentially neutral. In the conventional way of think-
ing, the moral context appropriate to technical matters is entirely clear.
Technology is nothing more than a tool. What men do with tools, of
course, is to ‘‘use” them. The tool itself is completely neutral—a means
to the desired end. Whether the end accomplished is wise or unwise,
beautiful or hideous, beneficial or harmful, must be determined inde-
pendently of the instrument employed. This judgment also holds true
for the wonderful developments in modern technology. The new
devices, regardless of their size and complexity, are still tools that may
be used either well or poorly. In the words of H. L. Nieburg, ‘‘Science
and technology are essentially amoral and their uses ambivalent. Their
miracle has increased equally the scale of both good and evil.” 35 The
neutrality of technology and the tool-use ethic are truisms striving to
become bromides. This has not been an obstacle to the dozens of au-
thors in the last decade or so who have unearthed these ideas and pre-
sented them as startling insights into the modern condition. In an
attempt to correct the position that technology is intrinsically benevo-

lent, while avoiding the notion that it is intrinsically evil, these authors

have rediscovered the obvious.26

The three propositions I have outlined here are conspicuously reason-
able. They are basic to any understanding of human mastery through
technology. Yet the fact remains that much of modern discussion sug-
gests that these ideas are no longer completely valid given the condi-
tions of advanced technics.

How thoroughly do people know their own technology? This is an
ambiguous question and could be answered in any number of ways. But
if it means, How much does an individual understand about the total
range of technologies that affect his or her life? the answer is clear.
Very little. Technical knowledge in modern society is so highly spe-
cialized and diffused that most people can grasp only a minute segment.
The rest of the technical activity and apparatus that surround each

Autonomous Technology 28

individual remain largely uncomprehended. Knowledge of how things
are put together and how they work exceed the grasp of everyone other
than the expert directly concerned with the particulars. The specialist,
of course, is largely oblivious to the nature of the processes and con-
figurations outside his field. Ideologies of the professions actually dig-
nify this state of affairs by making a virtue of not knowing anything
more than the particular segment. As Paul Goodman has observed, an
indication of the noncomprehensibility of our technologies can be seen
in the fact that most persons are totally helpless in matters of repair.
When a complex mechanism breaks down, one must call in someone
who understands its mysteries and can put it back in order. One mean-
ing of the idea of mastery is that one is able to have a complete vision
of something from beginning to end and complete facility in its use.
In this sense, mastery in the technological society is increasingly rare.
People work within and are served by technical organizations that by
their very nature forbid a perspicuous overview. In this sense, com-
plaints about autonomous technology are frequently of the sort: ‘‘I do
not understand what is happening around me.”

To what extent do men control technology? If control is under-
stood to mean either the exercise of a dominating influence or holding
in restraint, then much of modern literature would find the matter of
control at best paradoxical. One now finds persistent depositions given
about the following kinds of phenomena: large-scale systems that
appear to expand by some inherent momentum or growth—weapons
systems, freeways, skyscrapers, power, and communications net works—
which make the notions of controlled application and reasonable use
seem absurd; a continuing and ever-accelerating process of technical
innovation in all spheres of life, which brings with it numerous “un-
intended” and uncontrolled consequences in nature and society; tech-
nical systems entirely removed from the possibility of influence
through outside direction, which respond only to the requirements of
their own internal operations. In other words, the same technologies
that have extended man’s control over the world are themselves diffi-
cult to control. Recognition of this fact is not limited to the critics of

Autonomy and Mastery 29

the technological society. It extends to the most highly developed sec-
tors of big technology where the science of cybernetics and an obses-
sion with ‘‘command and control’ have been responses to internal
difficulties of this sort. Another layer of sophisticated technology was
required to enable the manipulation and coordination of networks
already in use. As fragility and unpredictability in large-scale systems
become facts of modern life, the ultimate success of these measures is
still in doubt. Reports of autonomous technology, therefore, are some-
times of the sort: ‘‘The mechanism does not perform as expected; the
slave will not obey.”

Is technology a neutral tool to human ends? No longer can an af-
firmative answer be given without severe qualifications. The most
spectacular of our implements often frustrate our ends and intentions
for them. Skepticism greets the promise that “our transportation crisis
will be solved by a bigger plane or a wider road, mental illness with a
pill, poverty with a law, slums with a bulldozer, urban conflict with a
gas.”37 Even the most distinguished of technocrats, Robert S.
McNamara for example, experience the vexation of discovering that
their mammoth technical systems cannot accomplish the basic tasks for
which they were designed—winning a war, rebuliding the cities, and so
forth. Although virtually limitless in their power, our technologies are
tools without handles. Often they seem to resist guidance by precon-
ceived goals or standards. Far from being merely neutral, our technolo-
gies provide a positive content to the area of life in which they are
applied, enhancing certain ends, denying or even destroying others.
Who would assert, for example, that the technologies of the industrial
age were neutral with regard to the highest ideals of medieval society?
Most important, our technical means sometimes take on the aspect of
self-perpetuation or self-generation. Human beings still have a nominal
presence in the network, but they have lost their roles as active, direct-
ing agents. They tend to obey uncritically the norms and requirements
of the systems which they allegedly govern. Here a revaluation of values
takes place in a manner that Nietzsche would have found abhorrent—
through technical necessity. In the technicized operational definition of

Autonomous Technology 30

human ends, one often finds that a crucial element in the original
notion has been lost and that something peculiar has been added in its
place. The determinant of this strange addition (which soon becomes
part of the life process) is usually a requirement of the technique em-
ployed. Often, then, our theme is announced when observers perceive
that ‘‘the tools are much more than tools. Technological neutrality is
a myth.”

In summary, the loss of mastery manifests itself in a decline of our
ability to know, to judge, or to control our technical means. It is in this
general waning of intellectual, moral, and political command that ideas
of autonomous technology find their basis. True, the acknowledgment
of these symptoms is neither uniform nor universal. Persons who feel
sufficiently empowered by the technical systems of our time will find
such observations of little help. My hope is that there will be at least a
few to whom the theme makes sense and who will want to consider it
further. These, I suspect, will be persons who have already in some way
experienced frustration in their attempts to make modern technics
intelligible or accessible in their own lives. Perhaps even the most con-
fident and best served will find reason to ponder the situation anew. I
have never met any bureaucrat or expert who did not complain of hav-
ing no real power or who gave any evidence of knowing much outside
his or her own technical function. It is for those who can understand
the modern significance of Heraclitus’s maxim, ‘“‘They are estranged
from that with which they have most constant intercourse,’”’ that my
investigations are intended.

Autonomy and Animism

One entrance to the problem, a kind of preview of the territory ahead,
is to notice how it has been represented in works of art. During the last
century and a half, the idea of autonomous technology has found ex-
pression in countless novels, poems, plays, and motion pictures. Stand-
ard to such treatments has been a mode of symbolism that portrays
technological artifice as something literally alive. Through some strange
process a man-made creature, machine, or advanced system takes on

Autonomy and Mastery 31

lifelike properties—consciousness, will, and spontaneous motion—which
place it in rebellion against the human community.

An amusing recent example of this genre is a film, Colossus: The
Forbin Project, which shows a brilliant scientist (obviously modeled on
the figure of Wernher von Braun) anda liberal, technocratic U.S. Presi-
dent (who bears a striking resemblance to John F. Kennedy) plotting to
jam and disarm their own giant computer, which has taken control of
the economy and entire defense system of the United States and the
Soviet Union. At the conclusion of the movie the computer intercedes,
telling the hapless humans it has been amused by their fumbling efforts
but that the game has gone on long enough. Colossus has the conspira-
tors, including his creator, Dr. Forbin, locked up.

The often vulgar Hollywood use of technological animism should
not obscure the fact that images of this kind have been useful symbols
for artists and writers concerned with the implications of modern tech-
nical artifice. The root idea, of course, is nothing new. Its origins are as
old as the tale of Prometheus fashioning the human race from clay, the
story of man’s creation in Genesis, or any number of similar accounts in
world religions that depict the human species as an autonomous arti-
fact of the gods. In this regard the notion of a living technology merely
recapitulates the myths of our own beginnings--the rebellion and fall of
man—and the ensuing harvest of troubles. In such writings as Mary
Shelley’s Frankenstein (which I shall discuss in some detail later) and
Samuel Butler’s Erewhon, the myth was powerfully reborn in Western
thought. Nineteenth-century writers were fascinated by the possibility
that scientists and inventors would actually succeed in creating artificial
life. That prospect was important in its own right, but it was also sym-
bolic of the growth of industrial society as well as more basic dilemmas
involved in any creative act.38 Artists have always understood that their
works in a true sense ‘‘have a life of their own” both during and after
their creation. When the advance of science and industrial technology
became well known, artists were among the first to speculate on the
possibilities for a truly perfect, independent, and lifelike work of

human fabrication.

Autonomous Technology 32

In Nathaniel Hawthorne’s “The Artist of the Beautiful,’ for
example, an inventor, Owen Warland, “considered it possible, in a cer-
tain sense, to spiritualize machinery, and to combine with the new
species of life and motion thus produced a beauty that should attain
to the ideal which Nature has proposed to herself in all her creatures,
but has never taken pains to realize.’39 His friends, of course, scoff at
his dream, but one day Warland presents them with his masterwork, a
tiny mechanical butterfly of such supreme perfection as to be “alive.”
The creature flutters gracefully about the room as the friends gasp in
amazement and the inventor discourses on the spiritual essence of
beauty. But when the butterfly approaches the hand of his creator, it
is denied. ‘‘ ‘Not so! not so!? murmured Owen Warland, as if his handi-
work could have understood him. ‘Thou hast gone forth out of thy
master’s heart. There is no return for thee.’ ” 40

The possibility of perfection and, therefore, of superiority of techni-
cal creations was also the subject of an unusual piece of writing by
Edgar, Allan Poe. In 1835 Poe went to see a famous automaton, the
“Chess Player,” designed by the European inventor Johann Nepomuk
Maelzel, the same Maelzel who had designed a mechanical brass orches-
tra, “The Panharmonicon,” for Ludwig van Beethoven (who wrote
“The Battle of Victoria” for the elaborate music box) and whose auto-
mated chess player had astounded Napoleon Bonaparte. The “Chess
Player” was a mechanical man sitting behind a desk who played a very
respectable, albeit jerky, game of chess. But Poe was not convinced. He
studied the operation of the machine and decided, correctly it turns
out, that Maelzel’s device was a clever fake. In a long review of the
show, Poe offers comprehensive proof that there is a man hidden in the
mechanism. The clincher in his argument comes when he points out
that, lo and behold, the “Chess Player” has been known to lose! “The
Automaton does not invariably win the game,” he explains. ‘“‘Were the
ee a pure machine, this would not be the case—it would always
win.”

Poe’s logic is direct but amusing. Since we design machines for per-

Autonomy and Mastery 33

fection and superiority over human capacity, those that are not su-
perior cannot be true machines. The practical implications of such tech-
nical possibilities became the focus of the animistic literature of the
twentieth century. Automation is now much more than a speculative
fantasy. Its capacity for the liberation from toil must be balanced
against the prospect that man will find himself functionless in his own
world. The prospect is much more than mere technological unemploy-
ment, unless one understands that notion in its most comprehensive
sense. In the world of mechanical or electrochemical ‘“‘dystopia” people
would be left with absolutely nothing to do or be. So perfect is their
work that they have fabricated themselves out of any meaningful exist-
ence. Those who can find a function at all will have to take on the
character of their own robots, for anything that does not conform to
the design of technological utopia cannot operate, much less have any
utility.

Representative of contemporary fictional literature on this theme is
Kurt Vonnegut’s Player Piano. One of the book’s subplots concerns the
sad fate of Rudy Hertz, a former mechanic and hapless victim of auto-
mation. The day finally came when technicians had placed his whole
job into the memory of the EPICAC computer. ‘“‘Rudy hadn’t under-
stood quite what the recording instruments were all about, but what he
had understood, he’d liked: that he, out of thousands of machinists,
had been chosen to have his motions immortalized on tape.’ 42 Now,
sitting in a tavern with his old friend, Dr. Paul Proteus, the protagonist
in the novel, Rudy decides to put a coin in the player piano slot:

“I played this song in your honor, Doctor,”’ shouted Rudy above the
racket. ‘‘Wait till it’s over.’”? Rudy acted as though the antique instru-
ment were the newest of all wonders, and he excitedly pointed out
identifiable musical patterns in the bobbing keys—trills, spectacular
runs up the keyboard, and the slow, methodical rise and fall of keys in
the bass. ‘“‘See—see them two go up and down, Doctor: Just the way the
feller hit ‘em. Look at ‘em go!”

The music stopped abruptly, with the air of having delivered exactly
five cents worth of joy. Rudy still shouted. ‘Makes you feel kind of

Autonomous Technology 34

creepy, don’t it, Doctor, watching them keys go up and down? You can
almost see a ghost sitting there playing his heart out.”
Paul twisted free and hurried out to his car. 43

Vonnegut’s anecdote provides a glimpse of the crucial statement and
ultimate conclusion of the writings on technological animism. If one
asks, Where did this strange life in the apparatus come from? What is its
real origin? the answer is clear: it is human life transferred into artifice.
Men export their own vital powers—the ability to move, to experience,
to work, and to think—into the devices of their making. They then ex-
perience this life as something removed and alien, something that comes
back at them from another direction. In this way the experience of
men’s lives becomes entirely vicarious. And often it is full of sur-
prises. In Hawthorne’s story, a young woman demands of Owen War-
land, ‘‘Tell me if it be alive, or whether you created it.’44 The inventor
replies that both conclusions about the butterfly are equally true.
“Alive? Yes, Annie; it may well be said to possess life, for it has ab-
sorbed my own being into itself.” 45

Much of the writing in this tradition suggests that there is a law of
the preservation of life at work, much like the law of the preservation
of energy. The transference is absolute; insofar as men pour their own
life into the apparatus, their own vitality is that much diminished. The
transference of human energy and character leaves men empty,
although they may never acknowledge the void. This is the problem
that the symbolism of such stories presents to us, one that is readily
applicable to the dilemmas of autonomous technology. Man now lives
in and through technical creations. The peculiar properties we may
notice in these creations are not the result of some spontateous genera-
tion (the mistake of vulgar science fiction films). What we see is human
life separated from the directing, controlling positive agency of human
minds and souls.

This state of affairs would be of small interest if it had to do only
with individual scientists and inventors and their works. In the most
skillful statements of the theme, the specific piece of apparatus repre-
sents a much more general condition: the plight of the human race in

Autonomy and Mastery 35

technological society. This is clearly the case in E. M. Forster’s classic
story, “The Machine Stops,” which describes a civilization living far
beneath the surface of the earth, completely dependent upon a large,
beneficent Machine. The Machine is both powerful and perfect, based
on the principle that things must be brought to people, rather than
people brought to things. “Those funny old days, when men went for
change of air instead of changing the air in their rooms!’’46 The human
beings, who are so well taken care of that they have shrunk in both
mental and physical capacity, obey the Machine’s every requirement.
Only one person, a young man named Kuno, is perceptive enough to
discern what has happened. He crawls to the surface of the earth
through one of the Machine’s vomitories and discovers that the land
above is beautiful and that one does not have to rely on the Machine
to breathe. When he returns to the caverns below he tells his friends:
“Cannot you see... that it is we that are dying, and that down here
the only thing that really lives is the Machine? We created the Machine,
to do our will, but we cannot make it do our will now. It has robbed us
of the sense of space and the sense of touch; it has blurred every human
relation and narrowed down love to a carnal act, it has paralyzed our
bodies and our wills, and now it compels us to worship it. The Machine
develops—but not on our lines. The Machine proceeds—but not to our
goal. We exist only as the blood corpuscles that course through its ar-
teries, and if it could work without us, it would let us die. 47

Writing in the late 1920s, Forster avoids the tendency of his time
to see the future of technological society in terms of mechanization,
the ordering of all social functions in monotonous, clocklike patterns.
Instead, he is concerned with the rise of a pathological dependence that
drains from men all activity and spirit. The life of the whole society is
transferred into the mechanism. While the Machine returns what it has
received in the form of “‘service,”’ it retains the living essence that gave
this ‘‘service’’ its original meaning. Here is a civilization in which so-
phisticated devices will think for people, work for people, improve their
own workings for people, and in general provide for all of people’s
needs. The price paid for this wonder is that human beings can no

Autonomous Technology 36

longer have any direct relationship with each other or with the world;
everything must go through the technical intermediary, and here some-
thing is always lost. “She fancied that he looked sad. She could not be
sure, for the Machine did not transmit nuances of expression. It gave
only a general idea of people—an idea that was good enough for all
practical purposes.’”’48 Virtually unnoticed to itself and in a host of
subtle ways, the human race and all of its cultural forms are dying. But
those who built the machine and now live withits manifest convenien-
ces have lost the ability to conceive of anything different. “Above her,
beneath her, and around her, the Machine hummed eternally; she did
not notice the noise, for she had been born with it in her ears.’’49

Ideas of this kind found their earliest expression in the arts. In our
own time they have graduated to the extremely sophisticated debates
surrounding research in artificial intelligence. But, significantly for our
purposes here, in the mid-nineteenth century such themes also began to
appear in the literature of political theory. The writings of Karl Marx
on labor, manufacturing, and machinery contain passages which de-
velop the theme of autonomous or, as Marx preferred, alienated tech-
nology and which employ images of technological animism. Marx be-
lieved that under the conditions of nineteenth-century capitalism, tech-
nology had taken on an independent, malevolent, lifelike existence and
stood opposed to man as an alien and even monstrous force. In Capital
Marx describes the advanced factory ‘system of his time as “a huge
automaton ... driven by a self-acting prime mover... [which] exe-
cutes, without man’s help, all the movements requisite to elaborate raw

1,759 words that Forster or Vonnegut might well have used.

materia:
“In the factory,’ he notes, ‘‘we have a lifeless mechanism independent
of the workman, who becomes its mere living appendage.” 51 “An or-
ganised system of machines, to which motion is communicated by the
transmitting mechanism from a central automaton, is the most
developed form of production machinery. Here we have, in the place of
the isolated machine, a mechanical monster whose body fills whole fac-
tories, and whose demon power, at first veiled under ‘the slow and

measured motions of his giant limbs, at length breaks out into the fast

Autonomy and Mastery 37

and furious whirl of his countless working organs.”’5? Such references
to a mechanical monster which makes men its appendages are not mere
instances of rhetorical excess. They are an important aspect of Marx’s
view of the profoundly pathological relationship that men had to indus-
trial technology, a view that was in turn an outgrowth of Marx’s theory
of alienated labor.

For Marx, technology must be understood within the context of
man’s fundamental relationship to nature. This relationship is one in
which an active, inherently sensuous being confronts material reality
for both sustenance and continued development. Like other animals,
man depends on nature for his very survival. But unlike them, man has
the capacity for free, conscious, productive activity, which permits him
not only to survive but also to develop his potential as a member of the
human species. ‘‘The practical construction of an objective world, the
manipulation of inorganic nature, is the confirmation of man as a
species being.””53 “Productive life is... species life. It is life creating
life.’”5+ Man lives in constant contact with material reality and shapes
it to his own purposes. Through his labor, he pours his life into nature
and makes it part of himself. In this sense man has two bodies, the one
with which he is born and an inorganic body, which is nature. Marx
spoke of the creative expansion and extension of man into the world
through labor as self-activity. An individual’s highest realization:comes
in totally free self-activity in community with his fellows. In this situa-
tion man’s relationship to technology is an entirely positive one. Man
uses all of the instruments and tools—the productive forces—available to
him in a conscious, productive manner. “The appropriation of these
powers is itself nothing more than the development of the individual
capacities corresponding to the material instruments of production.
The appropriation of a totality of instruments of production, is for this
very reason, the development of a totality of capacities in the indi-
viduals themselves.’? 55

In the course of history, however, the original and proper relation-
ship had gone wrong. Through a long series of technological and social
developments culminating in the capitalist industrial order, men had

Autonomous Technology 38

fallen into a condition in which the means of life, freedom, and enrich-
ment had evolved into forces of degradation, slavery, and death. They
had become alienated from productive life, from their products, tools,
labor, and their fellows. No longer was the laborer able to realize genu-
ine human potential through self-activity. Labor had become a
drudgery, which just barely provided for the necessities of life. Man the
laborer continued to pour his humanity into an endless succession of
products, but this process did not extend his power or satisfaction.
Rather, it drained life’s essence. ‘The more the worker expends himself
in work the more powerful becomes the world of objects which he
creates in face of himself, the poorer he becomes in his inner life, and
the less he belongs to himself. It is just the same as in religion. The
more of himself man attributes to God the less he has left in himself.
The worker puts his life into the object, and his life then belongs no
longer to himself but to the object. The greater his activity, therefore,
the less he possesses. What is embodied in the product of his labour
is no longer his own. The greater the product is, therefore, the more he
is diminished.” 56

What this situation meant in E. M. Forster’s story, it also signifies
to Marx. The alienated transference of life produces a strange phenome-
non in which man’s own being is experienced as something foreign,
removed, independent, and threatening. ‘‘The alienation of the worker
in his product means not only that his labour becomes an object,
assumes an external existence, but that it exists independently outside
himself, and alien to him, and that it stands to him as an autonomous
power. The life which he has given to the object sets itself against him
as an alien and hostile force.” 5” Under the conditions of capitalist tech-
nology men are no longer the masters of their tools, products, or pro-
ductive social relationships. Neither do any of these things benefit
them. Quite the contrary, the workers are worse off than before. The
coming of the technical marvels of the industrial revolution has driven
them to the lowest point of human existence. ‘By means of its con-
version into an automaton, the instrument of labour confronts the
labourer, during the labour process, in the shape of capital, of dead

Autonomy and Mastery 39

labour, that dominates, and pumps dry, living labour power.”58 De-
scribing this state of affairs, Marx formulates what amounts to the first
coherent theory of autonomous technology. His words in The German
Ideology effectively summarize much of what is problematic for us in
this inquiry: ‘‘This crystallization of social activity, this consolidation
of what we ourselves produce into an objective power above us, grow-
ing out of our control, thwarting our expectations, bringing to naught
our calculations, is one of the chief factors in historical development up
till now.” 59

Marx believed that man could achieve free and productive social
existence only by overcoming the alienation of labor. This step would,
of course, come through a revolution and the advent of a communist
social order, an important aim of which would be to liberate tech-
nology for its truly human function and to make it impossible that
pathological formations of the past could ever be reestablished. ‘‘The
reality, which communism is creating, is precisely the real basis for ren-
dering it impossible that anything should exist independently of indi-
viduals, in so far as things are only a product of preceding intercourse
of individuals themselves.” 69 “Only at this stage does self-activity
coincide with material life, which corresponds to the development of
individuals into complete individuals and the casting off of all natural
limitations.” 61 When this is achieved the mystification of autonomous
technology will vanish. No longer will men be confronted with an
“alien and hostile force” made up of their own products. “The life-
process of society, i.e., the process of material production, will not
shed its mystical veil until it becomes the product of freely associated
men, and is consciously regulated by them in accordance with a settled
plan.’’ 62

But one should not go too far in attributing a theory of autonomous
technology to Karl Marx. Although he presents a well-developed con-
ception of technology out of control, in the context of his work as a
whole it is merely an interlude in the midst of a much larger argu-
ment.©3 For Marx, the alienation of labor and the appearance of a
massive, life-draining industrial mechanism cannot be considered

Autonomous Technology 40

independently of the historical class struggle, surplus value in industrial
economics, capitalist accumulation, and the social and political domina-
tion of the bourgeoisie. Marx introduces the specter of an alien techno-
logical force to illustrate how far historical alienation has gone and how
little power ‘the worker has over his own daily existence. But Marx
makes it clear that mastery over technology has not been really lost.
It has simply been removed to a small segment of the social order, the
capitalist class. Directly following the animistic passages of Capital
quoted above, he stresses that there is most definitely a ‘‘master”
“in whose brain the machinery and his monopoly of it are inseparably
united.’ 4 The individual worker is indeed dwarfed and diminished by
his relationship to the technical means with which he has contact. But
behind the mechanism stands a human figure who takes up and manipu-
lates for his own advantage the power that has been drained from the
proletariat. ‘‘The special skill of each individual insignificant factory
operative vanishes as an infinitesimal quantity before the science, the
gigantic physical forces, and the mass of labour that are embodied in
the factory mechanism and, together with that mechanism, constitute
the power of the ‘master.’ 765 Again, this conclusion comes directly
from the elaboration of Marx’s theory of alienated labor. In the first
of the Economic and Philosophic Manuscripts he insists that technology
personified and animated can mean only that there is a real person or
class of persons lurking behind the strange phenomenon. ‘The alien
being to whom labour and the product of labour belong, to whose serv-
ice labour is devoted, and to whose enjoyment the product of labour
goes, can only be man himself. If the product of labour does not belong
to the worker, but confronts him as an alien power, this can only be
because it belongs to a man other than the worker. ’66

But is the role of the master any longer necessary? Does the mecha-
nism actually require his presence and guiding hand? On this question,
twentieth-century notions of autonomous technology diverge from
those in Capital. In the writings of Ellul and Marcuse, which in many
ways follow Marx’s analysis, the willful, exploiting subject isno longer
crucial to the operation of the system or to its domination of mankind.

Autonomy and Mastery 41

The master is in a true sense a redundancy, and his governance is orna-
mental rather than decisive. The privileged position of an elite or ruling
class is not proof that it steers the mechanism but only that it has a
comfortable seat for the ride. Ultimately the steering is inherent in the
functioning of socially organized technology itself such that any elite,
class, or ruling body “‘at the helm” would be forced to follow its neces-
sary course. Here we catch a first glimpse of one of the interesting po-
litical problems posed in theories of autonomous technology: if Poe
were doing his investigation today, he would probably not find a man
hidden in the “Chess Player”; a human being would only gum up the
works.

A fascinating, sprawling masterwork in the literature of autonomous
technology in our time is Ellul’s La Technique ou l’enjeu du siecle
(literally, “Technique: The Stake of This Century’’), translated as The
Technological Society. 67 Inheritor of the tradition I have sketched, the
book makes themes long recognized in fiction, poetry, film, and the
plastic arts accessible to contemporary sociology and political theory.
For reasons having to do with different intellectual climates and states
of technical development, Ellul’s thinking has attracted more attention
in the United States than in his native France. The work appeared in
English at a time when cybernetics, computers, and systems analysis
were becoming subjects for widespread academic and public debate. In
its very outrageousness, Ellul’s argument challenged American readers
and cast a fruitful light on a variety of their inchoate perceptions.

More than any other single work, The Technological Society is the
starting point for the questions I will be considering here. While it is
scarcely the last word on the subject and while its formulations are idio-
syncratic and often flawed, Ellul’s book is true to its original French
title; it does provide a vivid idea of how technology is central to what is
at stake in this century. Ellul is often criticized for reification and an-
thropomorphism in his major concepts. Indeed, his writing is filled with
constructions of the sort: ‘technique pursues its own course”; “‘tech-
nique advocates the entire remaking of life”; and “technique tolerates
no judgment from without.” The charge of reification, however, loses

Autonomous Technology 42

some of its impact if one considers that social science consistently
reifies such concepts as “society,” “family,” and “bureaucracy.” One is
hard pressed to think how it could do otherwise. Since we cannot have
all that we wish to talk about immediately present as empirical
referents, we must employ symbols to represent phenomena. Ellul
employs ‘“‘technique,”’ a concept we are not accustomed to using in a
reified manner, to speak of technical things in general.

The claim that ‘“‘technique’’ beconies anthropomorphic in his writing
is more to the point, precisely to the point in fact. Ellul’s main thesis,
after all, one that he takes full responsibility for and works to clarify
with argument and example, is that technique is entirely anthropo-
morphic because human beings have become thoroughly technomor-
phic. Man has invested his life in a mass of methods, techniques,
machines, rational-productive organizations, and networks. They are
his vitality. He is theirs. In body, mind, will, and activity they must
now move in unison or both will perish. By employing the metaphor of
technological animism—referring to ‘‘technique’’ as a sensing, thinking,
deciding, demanding subject—Ellul offers us an image that encompasses
not only the substance of his own complex arguments but many similar
conjectures and hypotheses in Western literature of the past century
and a half.

My purpose from this point will be to examine a series of specific
topics within the general theme of autonomous technology. I will be
asking: When have reports that “technology is out of control’’ actually
come up? Which experiences in modern life lie behind such concep-
tions? Some of the work, therefore, will consist of sorting, classifying,
and analyzing a variety of observations or hypotheses from sources in
philosophy, social science, and everyday life. At the same time we will
be engaged in a continuing process of criticism, for one must always
ask: What sense do these notions make? Are they in any way valid?
My method here will be to seek the rational core of what are sometimes
less than rational positions, making it clear what those positions take
into account and what their meaning for us might be.

Our path begins in the next chapter with a consideration of several

Autonomy and Mastery 43

issues centering on the phenomenon of technological change. In a brief
chapter following, I consider attempts made by a number of schools of
thought to locate the ultimate origins of Western technological dyna-
mism. Turning to politics in chapter 4, I will examine the major tenets,
historical and contemporary, of theories of technocracy. Chapters 5
and 6 will be devoted to an elaboration of the concepts and major asser-
tions of a theory of technological politics. This view goes beyond an
exclusive concern for technocratic elites to focus upon the role of tech-
nical structures and processes in modern culture as a whole and moves
from there to a redefinition of the terms of political life. A separate
chapter will then weigh the special problem of responsibility as it con-
fronts institutions of increasing scale and technical complexity. For me
the subject of responsibility represents the absolute minimum level at
which anyone might become practically involved in the substance of
the intellectual topics within our scope. A concluding chapter offers
thoughts for those who wish to go further than this bare minimum to
reevaluate the role of technics in their lives and to seek new horizons
for a politics of technology.

The reader is justified in wondering: What is the writer’s own posi-
tion on this matter? Does he actually maintain that technology is out of
control? Is that the point? A reasonable answer, I would respond, can
only be given with reference to any one or more of the specific sub-
themes I shall outline. Some of the dilemmas described are more
crucial, some of the problem formulations more substantial than others.
My intention is to demystify the issues rather than to dismiss or debunk
them. From there the reader is asked to decide what makes sense and
to form his or her own judgments. Autonomous technology is ulti-
mately nothing more or less than the question of human autonomy
held up to a different light. And those who remain supremely confident
about our prospects there have not been paying attention to what is

happening everywhere about them.

Chapter 2
Engines of Change

Following his visit to the Great Exposition in Paris in 1900, Henry
Adams, the American historian and philosopher, reported a peculiar
fascination with one part of the exhibit—the hall of dynamos. In his
Education, Adams explains that his friend and guide through the expo-
sition, Samuel Langley, was able to see the machines in their most
mundane aspect. ‘To him the dynamo was but an ingenious channel

As he grew accustomed to the great gallery of machines, he began to
feel the forty-foot dynamos as a moral force, much as the early Chris-
tians felt the Cross. The planet itself seemed less impressive, in its old-
fashioned, deliberate, annual or daily revolution, than this huge wheel,
revolving within arm’s length at some vertiginous speed. . . . Before the

end, one began to pray to it; inherited instinct taught the natural °

expression of man before silent and infinite force. Among the thousand
symbols of ultimate energy, the dynamo was not so human as some,
but it was the most expressive.

What Adams saw that day became for him the prime representation
of a set of perceptions that many before him and since have shared. Be-
hind the tremendous power of the giant machines stood the forces of
natural energy that man in increasing measure was able to harness for
his own purposes. These forces were in turn linked to a new force in

‘ human history—an ever-accelerating change mm the conditions of social,

economic, and political life. Convinced that this rate of change and the

momentum it brought to the affairs of man were the most important
facts of his time, Adams set about to discover laws of history to
account for the ever-expanding flow of technological energy. The dy-
namo was symbolic of a process so colossal and staggering to the imagi-
nation that only a mathematical series or the idea of divinity could
help the historian fathom its nature and probable course. Adams’s
sense of wonder was matched only by his intuition of danger. As he
wrote in a letter to his brother Charles, ‘‘You may think all this non-
sense, but I tell you these are great times. Man has mounted science and

Engines of Change 45

is now run away with. I firmly believe that before many centuries more,
science will be the master of man. The engines he will have invented
will be beyond his strength to control.’3

Since Adams’s time, the type of machine used to symbolize the
course of technological development has shifted with the fashions of
the moment. The automobile, the airplane, the nuclear reactor, the
space rocket, the computer—all have stood as representations of the
now familiar set of phenomena: the growth of scientific knowledge, the
expansion of technics, and the advent of rapid social change. In its turn
each new piece of miraculous apparatus has been heralded as the es-
sence of a new (but usually short-lived) ‘‘age” in the history of man-
kind. In its turn each machine metaphor has opened areas of both
insight and radical blindness as it becomes a means of interpreting
what happens in our world.4 Beyond the diversity of metaphors, how-
ever, lies a fundamental shared perception that modern history is
characterized by a process of continuing change and that somehow
machines and other manifestations of new technology are at the center
of this process.

One way of answering the question, Why is technology problematic?
rests on exactly this point. Technology is a source of concern because it
changes in itself and because its development generates other kinds of
changes in its wake. For many observers this is the whole story, the
alpha and omega of the entire subject. To look for crucial questions is
to look for inventions, innovations, and the myriad of ramifications
that follow from technological change.

It will eventually become clear why I do not see the matter from this
perspective alone. Change is merely one category, by no means the
most interesting one, within the range of problems I want to examine.
Nonetheless, among the significant themes included in the notion of
autonomous technology are those pointing to the process of technologi-
cal development and historical change as something that eludes control.
The matter of understanding precisely how various specific changes in
technology have affected the course of social change must be left to
the historian. My concern here will center on the questions raised in the

Autonomous Technology 46

previous chapter: human autonomy and the loss of mastery. Lewis
Mumford began his career by inquiring into purely factual aspects of
technological change and ended with the question, What does tech-
nology have to do with not being free? It seems to me that this, rather
than purely empirical or historical topics, is the urgent subject at

present.

Momentum and Motive

Let us begin by noticing a curious paradox that plagues almost all
discussions of technological change, both our ordinary common-sense
view of things and more precise scholarly ead the one hand
we encounter the idea that technological development goes forward
virtually of its own inertia, resists any limitation, and has the character
of a self-propelling, self-sustaining, ineluctable flow. On the other hand
are arguments to the effect that human beings have full, conscious
choice in the matter and that they are responsible for choices made at
each step in the sequence of change. /[he irony is that both points of
view are entertained simultaneously with little awareness of the contra-
diction such beliefs contain. There is even a certain pride taken in
embracing both positions within a single ideology of technological
change.

Signs of the paradox emerge from the ways in which historical
developments of the past two centuries are normally represented. For
several generations, it has been commonplace to see technological
advance in the context of a vast, world-transforming process—indus-
trialization, mechanization, rationalization, modernization, growth, or
“progress.” “Industrialization,” until recently the most popular label,
points to the range of adaptations in social, technical, and economic
structure that societies have undergone in order to support the large-
scale production of material goods. A more fashionable term at present,
“modernization,” attempts to correct for the narrowness of the indus-
trial concept in light of twentieth-century history. In essence it means
“all of those changes that distinguish the modern world from tradi-
tional societies.’’ During the last two or three centuries there has been

Engines of Change 47

an astounding increase in the scope, variety, sophistication, and effec-
tiveness of man’s scientific and technological activity. As the knowledge
of physical reality has expanded, men have been able to exploit
immense new sources of energy and materials and to devise larger, more
complex, more productive forms of manufacturing, agriculture, trans-
portation, communication, medicine, and warfare. Along with these
developments have come a vast array of social, economic, demographic,
and political changes which bring a whole new character to civilized
life—increased per-capita income, longer life expectancy, rapid expan-
sion of world population, rise in literacy, proliferation of social roles,

and so on.?

29 66

In most writings on “‘industrialization,” ‘“‘modernization,” and “‘de-
velopment,” the element of technological change is fownd to be so
crucial to the origins and continued formation of everything modern
that it is included in the definition of the process under study. W. W.
Rostow speaks of technological constraints that existed in ‘“‘pre-
Newtonian’”’ times and asserts that when modern technology was
lacking, social change was lacking as well. “Ultimately,” he observes,
“these constraints, operating in complex ways, were judged the cause of
the cyclical patterns typical of the history of traditional societies.” &
But with the coming of Newtonian science and the industrial revolu-
tion, a pattern of linear growth was established that continues to the
present day. In response to the developments in science and technics,
the institutions of society and politics alter their structure in order to
“absorb” the new technologies. ‘‘Political development,” Rostow tells
us, “‘consists in the elaboration of new and more complex forms of poli-
tics and government as societies restructure themselves so as to absorb
progressively the stock and flow of modern technology.” ” In Wilbert
E. Moore’s book Social Change, the point is even more definite: ‘‘What
is involved in modernization is a ‘total’ transformation of a traditional
or pre-modern society into the types of technology and associated
social organization that characterize the ‘advanced,’ economically
prosperous, and relatively politically stable nations of the Western
World.””8

Autonomous Technology 48

Beginning in the nineteenth century and continuing to the present
day, there has been a significant number of writers ready to claim that
such historical tendencies reflect a process of technological change that
is self-generating, self-determining, and in a true sense inevitable. For
our time, Jacques Ellul has offered a remarkably pure version of this
position. His writings cite an endless barrage of examples which attempt
to demonstrate that “technique has become a reality in itself, self-
sufficient, with its own special laws and its own determinations.” 9
Others have tried to identify precisely what the special laws are that
govern the dynamics of technological transformation. For writers like
Roderick Seidenberg, Leslie White, and their notable precursor, Henry
Adams, such changes are best seen as a purely physical process. Altera-
tions in the material culture of modernity are, in this view, much like
those that occur in the motions and changes of state of inanimate
objects. It makes sense, therefore, to speak of them in terms of speed,
force, momentum, energy, and acceleration and to account for the
aggregate process under laws of strict, causal determinism.

Adams, for example, believed he had discovered a “law of accelera-
tion” in human history based on the fact that the complexity of civili-
zation, as well as its control over physical force, seemed to double and
redouble in an ever-increasing ratio. Adams even suggested methods of
measuring the acceleration: ‘“‘The coal output of the world, speaking
roughly, doubled every ten years between 1840 and 1900, in the form
of utilized power, for the ton of coal yielded three or four times as
much power in 1900 as in 1840. Rapid as this rate of acceleration
seems, it may be tested in a thousand ways without greatly reducing
it.?10 Such a process of increasing energy and organization would,
Adams believed, defy all attempts at conscious direction or opposition.
“A law of acceleration, definite and constant as any law of mechanics,
cannot be supposed to relax its energy to suit the convenience of
man.” !1

For Adams and his present-day followers the specific physical laws
that govern historical development are those of thermodynamics, the
science of the relationship of heat and mechanicai energy. Restated by

Engines of Change 49

Seidenberg, the fundamental ‘‘discovery” of this school is “that the
stages in the course of human evolution may be comparable to changes
of state in a purely material system as expressed by the Rule of Phase
in thermodynamic theory.” !2 Such changes in “phase” involving an
increase in energy and organized complexity are seen as an anti-entropic
movement in physical reality. The movement runs directly counter to
the second law of thermodynamics, which states that entropy increases,
that is, matter becomes increasingly disorganized and energy increas-
ingly diffused. In what certainly must be the ultimate in organization
theories, the acceleration of technological and social development is
depicted as a final, futile fizzle in a universe headed for thermodynamic
annihilation.

Adams’s law of acceleration is strikingly similar to recent assertions
about the problem of “exponential growth” and is subject to many of
the same objections. In trying to account for the skyrocketing use of
coal, Adams would have done better to cite such reasons as the expan-
sion of America’s population, the increase in number of industrial
cities, and the shrinking of the western frontier. Historical analogies to
scientific laws usually go adrift by making claims at the wrong level of
explanation.

But are Ellul and the thermo-organization theorists entirely unique
in attributing a certain dynamism and ineluctability to the process of
technology-associated change? The scholarly literature on industriali-
zation, modernization, and growth contains continued reference to
such concepts as speed, momentum, force, and acceleration. The lan-
guage of change in this area is inextricably bound to such conceptions
as “the dynamics of modernization,” “the forward thrust of technologi-
cal change,” “the accelerated pace of industrial development.” The
most famous of the recent metaphorical devices here is W. W. Rostow’s
airplane image, “the take-off and drive to technological maturity.”
The attribution of an inherent dynamism to the process of change is
particularly evident in the use of “-ization”’ suffix words. Here, perhaps
unintentionally, connotations of a self-generating, self-sustaining
process frequently creep in. There is a tendency to speak as if

Autonomous Technology 50

industrialization, modernization, and the other ‘‘-izations’’ are similar to
such physical processes as ionization in the sense that once underway,
they continue on their own with a kind of in-built necessity or inertia.
To a certain extent, this connotation is merely a quirk in our language.
In English, the ‘‘-ize’’ verbs do imply an active, willing subject, while
the “ization” nouns suggest a self-generating process. In many instan-
ces, however, economists and historians wish to maintain that the
‘“ization” they are studying is in fact a phenomenon sui generis,
inertial and self-sustaining. In David Landes’s excellent work on techno-
logical change, The Unbound Prometheus, we find statements of the
following sort: “It was the Industrial Revolution that initiated a cumu-
lative, self-sustaining advance in technology whose repercussions would
be felt in all aspects of economic life.”’ 13 This, of course, is similar to
Rostow’s major point. After the ‘‘takeoff,” industrial societies enter a
period of sustained development in which growth feeds upon growth
in an ever-expanding, ever-accelerating upward curve.

But there is more here than just the convenience of a metaphor.
In describing the course of technical and social history, scholars often
commit themselves to a view that finds dynamism and inertial change
apparent in certain objective facts. C. E. Black finds the impact of
modernization to be a universal phenomenon. ‘The process of adapta-
tion,” he observes, “had its origins and initial influence in the societies
of Western Europe, but in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries these
changes have been extended to all other societies and have resulted in
a world wide transformation affecting all human relationhsips.” 14 The
process is commonly held to be irreversible in the sense that the
changes have taken us so far from the forms of traditional society that
it would be impossible ever to move in that direction again. This
concept is made abundantly clear in Clark Kerr’s Industrialism and
Industrial Man. According to Kerr, “An argument against industriali-
zation in general is now futile, for the world has firmly set its face
toward the industrial society, and there is no turning back.” 15 The
changes, similarly, are held to be inevitable in the special sense that new
forms of technology and social life must necessarily replace older

Engines of Change 51

modes. The technics and social configurations of former times are
doomed and simply cannot survive. ‘Once under way,” Kerr observes,
“the logic of industrialization sets in motion many trends which do
more or less violence to the traditional pre-industrial society.” 16 The
only alternative is to yield to these trends and obey their imperatives.
Witness the fate of the reluctant industrial workers: ‘‘The dynamic
science and technology of the industrial society creates frequent
changes in the skills, responsibilities, and occupations of the work
force. ... The work force is confronted with repeated object lessons of
the general futility of fighting these changes, and comes to be recon-
ciled, by and large, to repeated changes in ways of earning a living.” 17

Conclusions of this sort are usually offered as purely factual matters.
The historians, economists, and political scientists who tell us of such
things are merely reporting an objective state of affairs that we can
verify for ourselves. At the same time there is, as Henry Adams would
have expected, a tendency to adopt a worshipful attitude toward the
‘Cizations’”’ and their juggernaut-like advance. One begins to see the
process as an overwhelmingly powerful destiny with the moral obliga-
tions of service and obedience. In this light David Apter compares the
modern condition to the plight of Sisyphus in Camus’ fable: ‘Sisyphus,
returning again and again to roll his rock up the hill, may appear ab-
surd. Yet on each occasion he is happy. How odd that seems: And how
like our own times. The work of modernization is the burden of this
age. It is our rock.”18 Another student of modernization, Myron
Weiner, is even more definite in this regard. ‘Social scientists,” he
asserts, ‘are concerned not only with how modernization takes place,
but also with how it can be accelerated.” 19 Faced with a world under-
going many comprehensive changes, the social scientist must ask
himself, ‘“‘What are these changes, how are they related, how do we
study them, how can these changes be hastened?”29 The objective,
neutral disposition of social science apparently vanishes when it en-
counters the inevitable. One must affirm it and lend a hand. It is, after

all, our rock.
With the articulation of such themes the distinction between ortho-

Autonomous Technology 52

dox scholarship and the literature of autonomous technology begins to
blur. Arrayed together in a list, these attributes of modernization—
dynamism, universality, pervasiveness, irreversibility, inevitability, and
positive destiny—cover most of what Ellul includes in his account of the
proliferation of la technique. While Ellul’s treatment goes much further
than normal social science in seeing the development as monistic and
self-augmenting, the general implication of the more prudent studies
is not that much different. The modern age is portrayed as a time in
which individuals, groups, nations, and whole cultures are caught up in
a process of technological transformation which affects every sphere of
life and which pulverizes preexisting social alternatives.

But, surely, we feel there must be some important differences be-
tween the views of critics of technological society and those of scholars
of modernization. At the very least, the two points of view give differ-
ent impressions when we read them.

One obvious issue separating the two perspectives—and, lamentably,
the one most frequently commented upon—is whether the direction of
change has been a blessing or curse for mankind. As noted above, most
students of development and modernization hold that the process is
undeniably beneficent. While they admit that technological advance
has frequently brought disaster to persons caught between the old ways
and the new, they consider these costs in human wreckage to be una-
voidable and, on the whole, worthwhile.2! The general condition of
mankind has improved immeasurably. In contrast Ellul and other critics
of technology question the good of the specific kinds of changes that
have occurred and argue that human freedom, dignity, and well-being
have not been enhanced by the historical flood tide.

While much has been made of the gap between optimism and pessi-
mism and whether a particular writer is a “prophet of hope” or a
“prophet of doom,” this is, I think, in the end a vacuous distinction. In
much scholarship today there exists an almost compulsive need for
optimism on this topic. If one notices that an Ellul or Mumford or
some other author is pessimistic in his conclusions, that becomes suf-
ficient ground for dismissing anything he or she might be saying. Pes-

Engines of Change 53

simism, it is argued, leads to inaction, which merely reinforces the
status quo. 22 This is somehow different from optimism, which leads to
activity within the existing arrangement of things and reinforces the
status quo. In the same manner of thinking one would have to do away
with Aeschylus, Shakespeare, Melville, and Freud and much of what is
deepest and most illuminating in Western literature.

But setting aside the invidious matter of gloom versus hopefulness,
we encounter an issue of genuine interest. Are the various paths of tech-
nological development freely and deliberately chosen, or are they in-
stead the product of determinism, necessity, drift, or some other
historical mechanism? To what extent are man’s active intelligence,
moral and political agency, and capacity for control true determinants
of technical and social progress? On the face of the matter it appears
that voices in the discussion about technological change can easily be
sorted into two basic positions on this theme. One side affirms freedom
and the reality of “choice,” while the other sees mankind as a pawn in
the indelicate hands of history. Or so it seems.

Under the voluntarist way of looking at things the notion that
people have lost any of their ability to make choices or exercise control

“over the course of technological change is unthinkable; for behind the

massive process of transformation one always finds a realm of human
motives and conscious decisions in which actors at various levels deter-
mine which kinds of apparatus, technique, and organization are going
to be developed and Se aes modernization are always the
modernizers; behind industria ization, the industrialists. Science and
technology do not grow of their own momentum but advance through
the work of dedicated, hard-working, creative individuals who follow
highly idiosyncratic paths to their discoveries, inventions, and pro-
ductive innovations. In the process of development, active, thinking
agents—James Watt, Thomas Newcomen, Thomas Watson, Alfred Sloan,
the Du Ponts—are clearly present at each step, following distinctly
human ideas and interests. Societies, furthermore, do not yield pas-
sively to the “thrust” of modernization. Political and economic actors
of the world’s nation-states make conscious decisions about what kinds

Autonomous Technology 54

of technological development to encourage and then carry out these
decisions in investments, laws, sanctions, subsidies, and so on. In some
instances—nineteenth-century China, for example—the introduction of
modern technology was actively opposed. In such cases ‘‘development”’
could not begin until a Western colonial power had neutralized such
opposition in a colonized country or until an internal political upheaval
had put men favorable to such changes in positions of leadership. The
modern history of technological change is, therefore, not one of uni-
form growth. It is instead a diverse collection of patterns rooted in spe-
cific choices that individuals, groups, and nations have made for them-
selves and imposed on others.23

The voluntarist position on such questions sounds eminently
reasonable having, as it does, the clear timbre of common sense. Yet
there is a difficulty here that is not easily dismissed, a difficulty that
carries us to the paradox mentioned earlier. In much of the literature
on technological change two radically different languages are spoken
at once, with little attention to how they can both describe the same
set of events. One is the language of a dynamic global process that
moves ineluctably forward, transforming everything in its path. The
other is the language of free agency, individual will, deliberation, and
choice in which the path of technological advance is consciously
directed. Facing this paradox, it does little good to argue that the
‘izations’? are merely conveniences of speech, shorthand ways of talk-
ing about myriads of free decisions and actions. We have already seen
that writers on industrialization, modernization, and the like do wish to
assert that the process itself has a true momentum or inertial beyond
individual or even collective will. Thus, even a judicious spokesman on
industrial development, Clark Kerr, is able to exclaim:

This technique knew no geographical limits; recognized no elites or
ideologies. Once unleashed on the world, the new technique kept
spreading and kept advancing.
It is the great transformation—successful, all-embracing, irreversible.
By the middle of the twenty-first century industrialization will have

Engines of Change 55

swept away most pre-industrial forms of society, except possibly a few
odd backwaters. 24

To escape the dilemma here, scholars often resort to the view that
human freedom actually exists within the limits set by the historical
process. While not everything is possible, there is much that can still be
chosen. This perspective enables David Apter to see modernization as
“a process of increasing complexity in human affairs within which the
polity must act [emphasis added]” and at the same time to hold that
“to be modern means to see life as alternatives, preferences and
choices.’’ 25 Rostow, in the same vein, sees the process of technological
development as a grand staging ground, which gives shape to all of
society’s most important decisions. “With the take-off and drive to
technological maturity the process of industrialization itself becomes
the center of politics.” 26 “The efficient absorption of technologies,”
he notes, “carries with it powerful imperatives, social and political as
well as economic.” 27 The effect of these developments is to lay on
“the agenda a succession of pressures to allocate the outputs of govern-
ment in new ways.” 28 But once the fundamental agenda has been set,
there is considerable choice about the specific sociotechnical forms the
development will take.

To Ellul, Marcuse, Mumford, and other critics of the technological
society, arguments of this stripe are entirely in vain. The self-confidence
of the modernizers is merely a guise concealing a strict obedience to
the momentum of events. Under present conditions men are not at all
the masters of technological change; they are its prisoners. Although
the voluntarists may celebrate man’s shrewdness and freedom, the cele-
bration cannot alter the condition that their own theories reveal. The
shout of freedom, D. H. Lawrence noted long ago, “is the rattling of
chains, always was.”’

The critics themselves, however, do not escape the paradox but ap-
proach it in a different manner. Mumford, Marcuse, Ellul, and Good-
man never deny human freedom as a metaphysical or historical possi-
bility. What they do assert in various ways is that with regard to

Autonomous Technology 56

technological change, such possibilities remain unrealized. ‘The reader
must always keep in mind,” Ellul cautions his American audience, ‘“‘the
implicit presupposition that if man does not pull himself together and
assert himself (of if some other unpredictable but decisive phenomenon
does not intervene), then things will go the way I describe.”29 The
process of technological advance surges along an ineluctable path
largely because human agents have abdicated their essential role. Thus,
if the development of technics in civilization does not proceed by a
strict cause-and-effect chain, it might as well be doing so.

The contradictions and tensions we see here are not the exclusive
property of philosophers and social theorists. They are, I would argue,
crucial to our common sense views of the matter as well. Journalism,
popular literature, and subway conversations frequently exhibit the
puzzle that while someone, somewhere is making decisions and choices,
things are also running amok. Autonomous technology in the sense of
technological-change-out-of-control is a part of the modern experience.
Our task is to see if such experience can be described in an intelligible
way. There are two areas, I believe, where it pays us to look.

First, are there certain aspects of the process of technical change
that do not depend on the elements of free will, conscious decision, or
anyone’s intelligent control? Are there some important points at which
there simply is no effective, guiding human will that determines the
final result?

Second, is it the case, as the critics have argued, that the capacity for
modern men to make free choices to counter the anarchic tendencies of
technological development has itself been eroded by an obsessive
attachment to the mode of technological change? Obviously, in some
sense “choice” is always possible. But is that enough? An odd freedom
it is that in every instance is capable only of choosing the next step in
the logic of technical expansion.

In the sections that follow I shall draw upon a variety of cases and
arguments that contain the substance of a theory of autonomous tech-
nological change. Far from being expressions of mere pessimism or
anxiety, the themes we will consider—technological evolution, deter-

Engines of Change 57

minism, drift, and the technological imperative—point to some genuine
dilemmas in the ways in which modern societies undergo change, as
well as in our conceptions about such change.

Technological Evolution

A central theme in the speculative writing on technology of the past
century is that forms of technics, like forms of biological life, undergo
a process of evolution. With the passage of time, newer and more so-
phisticated varieties of apparatus, organization, and technique rise to
replace older, simpler varieties. New technologies enter into areas of
social existence where they had not been previously. Just as Darwin ob-
served that the various species of life on the Galapagos Islands tended
to specialize and diversify into particular biological niches, so it is that
forms of technology continually spread into fresh areas of social utility.
In both number and diversity the kinds of technical artifice available to
human societies increase. One of the first thinkers to notice the simi-
larity between biological and technical evolution was(Karl Mar) In
Capital he comments: “Darwin has aroused our interest in the history
of natural technology, i. e., in the formation of the organs of plants and
animals, as instruments of production for sustaining life. Does not the
history of the productive organs of man, of organs that are the material
basis of all social organization deserve equal attention? And would not
such a history be easier to compile, since, as Vico says, human history
differs from natural history in this respect, that we have made the
former, but not the latter?” 30 Marx, as we Shall see later, definitely did
not believe that the evolution of technology was a self-generating proc-
ess. But there have been many who have entertained this notion, either
as an interesting literary device or a serious proposition.

As an exercise in thinking, of course, it is possible to look upon tech-
nological change as a kind of evolutionary flow. Characteristic of such
applications of Darwinian theory is a tendency to reduce the human
role to a distinctly secondary status. Since the theory focuses upon the
evolving forms of technics in themselves, human beings come to be seen
as the mere carriers of technology. Each generation bears and extends

Autonomous Technology 58

the technical ensemble and passes it on to the next generation. The
mortality of human beings matters little, for technology is itself the im-
mortal and, therefore, the more significant part of the process. Specific
varieties of technics can be compared to biological species that live on
even though individual members of the species perish. Mankind serves
a function similar to that of natural selection in Darwinian theory.
Existing structures in nature and the technical ensemble are the equiva-
lent of the gene pool of a biological species. Human beings act not so
much as participants as a selective environment which combines and re-
combines these structures to produce new mutations, which are then
adapted to a particular niche in that environment.

Particularly among thinkers with backgrounds in the natural scien-
ces, engineering, and anthropology, this perspective is occasionally
suggested as a valid portrait of the development of technology. The fact
that human beings—both as individuals and as a species—are dwarfed
and placed in a secondary status by these developments is seldom taken
as a warrant for gloom. Ellul, of course, draws some rather bleak con-

clusions from the Darwinian strand in his thought: “Technique pursues

its own course more and more independently of man. This means that

man Participates less an and Tess ‘actively in technical creation, which, by

the _automatic _ combination of prior elements, becomes a mine of fate. :

nique has” arrived at ech a point in its evolution that it is being trans-
formed and is progressing almost without decisive intervention by
man.” 32 “It is evolving with a Ben) disconcerting not only to the
3

But there are foci ake he hold ‘that the evolution of tech-
nology is the most glorious’ of blessings, even though it spells the ob-
solescence of the human race. The movement is leading to a higher
stage of development in the history of the world and in the history of
consciousness. Support for this hypothesis is found in what its propo-
nents believe to be the convergence of men and machines. Machines,

aa --
computers in particular, are becoming More and more human and are,

according to some estimates, on the verge of a consciousness and intel-

Engines of Change 59

ligence of their own. Human beings, on the other hand, are becoming
more re and more lik ‘Tike. ‘the. _cyborgs—cybernated “organisms—of s science
fiction. They now require an increasing number of technical support
systems to keep them running efficiently: cardiac pacemakers, artificial
kidneys, computer-aided systems of inquiry, and so on. Eventually
there will be a kind of total man-machine symbiosis in which the
organic parts of the human being will be grafted directly to highly so-
phisticated, miniaturized technological organs, which will assist in all
physical and intellectual functions. The world will enter a stage in the
development of consciousness and physical performance much
advanced over anything in our experience. 34

One cost of this remarkable set of advances, according to the techno-
evolutionists, may well be that the fleshly part of the new technological
ensemble will become on an otherwise highly efficient ‘system.
In the words o anes the synthesis of men and machine
ever be stable, or will the purely organic component become such a
hindrance that it has to be discarded? If this eventually happens—and I
have ... good reasons for thinking that it must—we have nothing to
regret and certainly nothing to fear.” “‘The Tool we have invented is _
our successor. Biological evolution has given way to a far more rapid

process—technological evolution.” “‘No individual exists forever,” he

continues: “why should we expect our species to be immortal? Man,
said Nietzsche, is a rope stretched between the animal and the super-
human—a rope across the abyss. That will be a noble purpose to have
served.’”35

In other words, man should be pleased to have played even a small
walk-on part in this much larger drama. To complain that humans have
been left out of the final scenes is merely an example of outdated
species chauvinism. whether taken in a positive or negative light,
all theories sh Geanooiai suffer from the same basic flaw. Their
major discovery—the eclipse of mankind—turns out to be something
they had assumed in the first place. The evolutionary perspective begins

with the adoption of abstract categories which do not include a role for
free, conscious human agents. Is it any wonder that when theorists of

Aillanamuus Technology 60

this aehaal go looking for man, they find that the human role has
shrunk ta virtually nothing?

‘There ts, however, a more concrete level at which a variant on the
idea of technoevolution has considerable power. If we examine the
progress of scientific discovery and technological invention and inno-
vatlon in modern history, we do encounter something resembling an
evolution of forms. With the passage of time both science and technics
become more specialized, diversified and complex. It is this aspect of
the process of change which Ellul labels the ‘‘self-augmentation of tech-

nique,’’ and which he sees as one of the origins of the modern n malady.

Ellul’s discussion begins by pointing out that modern technical prog-
ress usually comes as the result of organized social effort. Modern men
are thoroughly convinced of the inherent superiority of technique. In
every trade and profession they work in combination to devise tech-
nical improvements. “Technical Progress and common human effort,”
Ellul observes, ‘‘come to the same thing. 36 It is important to note
here that Ellul holds that there is no ‘longer any real distinction between
science and “technique. 37 Indeed, he states that what is usually called

bc

“science” has become so thoroughly technicized that it is now ‘‘an
instrument of technique.’’ By ‘‘technical progress,” therefore, Ellul
includes the discoveries made within the social system of science along
with the more mundane advances in other fields of knowledge and
practice.

With this view stated, Ellul seeks to deny the element of voluntarism
implied by the idea of ‘‘common human effort.”’ What is important, he
asserts, is not the discovery or invention of any particular individual or
group but, instead, “the anonymous accretion of conditions for the
leap ahead.” 38 «When all the conditions concur, only minimal human
intervention is needed to produce important advances. It might almost
be maintained that, at this stage of evolution of a technical problem,
whoever attacked the problem would find the solution.” 39 A conse-
quence of this state of affairs is that the role of genius in scientific and
technical progress has shrunk to insignificance. Those who continue to
talk about it are merely propagating an illusion. According to Ellul, ‘It _

Engines of Change 61

40 “The accre-_

is no longer the vision of a Newton which is decisive.

tion of manifold minute details, all tending to perfect “the ensemble, is
much more decisive than the intervention OF the indiviawal aad’

ne OF tos some e spectacular system ‘that

oe see oe
and thus gives Net y to a a mac

will bear his name. wad
( Another important aspect of self-augmentation is the continuing

increase in the scope and number of techniques. “There is,’ ” Ellul main-
tains, ‘an automatic growth (that is, a growth which is not calculated,
desired, or chosen) of everything which concerns technique. 42 “Ap.
parently this is a self-generating process: technique engenders itself.’ “)
What is involved here is the fact that technical advances in differe
spheres are often closely related at their points of origin. “A technical
discovery has repercussions in several branches of technique and not
merely in one.” 44 “When a new technical form appears, it makes pos-
sible and conditions a number of others.’ 45 Ellul cites the simple ex-
ample of the internal combustion engine, which “conditioned” the
development of the automobile, the submarine, and other devices.

In the ceaseless combination and recombination of technical advan-
ces, Ellul finds the following “law”: “Technical progress tends to act,
not according to an arithmetic, but according to a geometric progres-
sion.”46 Once again, his argument leads him to a denial of voluntarism.
“What is it that determines this progression today? We can no longer
argue that it is an economic or a social condition, or education, Or any
other human factor. Essentially, the preceding technical situation alone
is determinative. When a given technical discovery occurs; it has fol-
lowed almost of necessity certain other discoveries. Human intervention
in this succession appears only as an incidental cause, and no one Man
can do this by himself. But anyone who is sufficiently up-to-date tech-
nically can make a valid discovery which rationally follows its predeces-
sors and rationally heralds what is to follow.” 47 .

In a manner typical of his way of thinking, Ellul discovers an ironic
determinism in the modern history of technology, a determinism

heavily laden with moral quandary, for men voluntarily enter and

Autonomous Technology 62

submit themselves to social processes that generate a pattern of techni-
cal advance, which, in the end, cannot be distinguished from an ever-
multiplying cause-and-effect progression. This movement is truly self-
determining in the sense that its direction is inherent in the structures

of technique and nature available at each stage. It is It is self-generating in

the sense that all human motives, decisions, creative tive insights, _and acts
are placed at its service. There is nothing from the human sphere that
intervenes to” guide or limit its advance.

It is important to notice exactly what Ellul is saying here and on
what grounds he stakes his case, for he is often ‘refuted” with points
that do not speak to his actual position. Ellul is not saying that there
are no choices or alternatives with regard to what is or can be done ‘in
scientific or technical development. He is not saying, for example, that
there is no ‘‘science policy” in the United States to determine which
kinds of inquiry are encouraged and funded and which are not. What he
does say is that, given the whole or, as he puts it, the ‘ensemble of
techniques,” such specific choices by groups or individuals are insignifi-
cant. Speaking of the law of geometric progression he notes, ‘In argu-
ing thus, the qualification must be made that this can be said only of
the ensemble of techniques, of the technical phenomenon, and not of

any particular technique. For every technique taken by itself there ap-

parently exist barriers that act to impede further progress. ... For the
technical phenomenon in its ensemble, however, a limitless progress is
open.” 48 Ellul makes it clear that his argument rests on the idea that
the “ensemble” is a distinctive entity in itself: “A whole new kind of
spontaneous action is taking place here, and we know neither its laws
nor its ends. In this sense it is possible to speak of the ‘reality’of tech-
nique—with its own substance, its own particular mode of being, and a
life independent of our power of decision.’?49

In taking this position, Ellul accepts the major premise of the tradi-
tion of sociology founded by Emile Durkheim. According to Durk-
heim’s Rules of Sociological Method, “Society is not a mere sum of indi-
viduals. Rather, the system formed by their association represents a spe-
cific reality which has its own characteristics.” 5° In Ellul’s foreword to

Engines of Change 63

the American edition of The Technological Society, he explains (with-
out mentioning Durkheim) the role of this notion in his work: “To me
the sociological does not consist of the addition and combination of
individual actions. I believe that there is a collective reality, which is
independent of the individuals.”5! He also calls attention to the way in
which this view has influenced his position on the issues of determinism
and voluntarism. “I do not deny the existence of individual action or of
some inner sphere of freedom. I merely hold that these are not dis-
cernible at the most general level of analysis, and that the individual’s
acts or ideas do not here and now exert any influence on social, politi-
cal or economic mechanisms.” 52

It can be argued that the autonomist assumption, that is, that so-
ciety and culture are things in themselves and must be studied as such,
is the most important single premise in all of sociology.°3 In this regard
Ellul is distinctive only in the particular source he identifies at the heart
of the condition of autonomy, la technique. He is also distinctive in his
desire to pit the collective process against the pretensions of the indi-
vidual. “‘Human beings are, indeed, always necessary,” he agrees. “But
literally anyone can do the job, provided he is trained to it.7>4

Ellul’s treatment of technical self-augmentation is vulnerable to criti-
cism on several points. In general, many of his conceptual distinctions
are incorrect, and he seriously Jnisinterprets what actually | hap ens in
scientific and_tect: technical development. His insistence that science and
technique are identical : simply does not wash. While it is true that the
two spheres now have much in common, it is equally clear that in both
conception and actual operation, they are still to a large degree separate
kinds of enterprise. It seems wise, therefore, to maintain the basic dis-
tinction that science is a particular way of knowing or body of knowl-
edge; technology is a particular kind of practice. ‘

It is evident also that Ellul gives a misleading ¢ersion of the way in
which discoveries and inventions take place. His treatment suggests that

ifie-and_technical knowledge is an entirel ear,

rational ind additive accumulation. Tn this regard he is merely restating

the image that scientists and technicians long held of their own work.

Autonomous Technology 64

But if one reads the recent writings of historians and philosophers of
science on this matter, one receives an entirely different picture. In the
revised view, the advancement of knowledge in many fields has been far
from a strictly logical, linear, or cumulative process. What one finds
instead are paths marked by significant periods of turmoil, conflict,
and radical shifts of orientation. Today the prevailing interpretations of
the history of science stress the idiosyncrasies encountered in the prog-
ress of knowledge.°5 Studies of technological invention and innovation
now pursue much the same direction.56 At the same time, however,
Ellul’s conclusion about exponential development is not at all unusual.
“What is true of science is true of technology,’ Donald Schon con-
cludes. “Both have grown exponentially and the law governing their
rate of change is the same as it has been for the last hundred or two

hundred years.” 57

The self-augmentation conception can also be criticized for glossing
over some important aspects of technical development itself. Ellul fails

ete A ak oe ey
tidn—and-apparently believes that for all intents and purposes these
activities are identical. Most of us, however, would want to point out
that there is, after all, a distinction between what happens in the labora-

tory and what happens when discoveries are put to work in the world

at large.
These and other objections of the same sort can be aimed at Ellul’s

formulation, some of them to good effect. Ellul does have several im-
portant facts wrong. His interpretation of several key issues is faulty. In
his defense, it should be noted that most of the criticisms popularly
raised against his work aim at relatively small points and do not come
to grips with his central concern: to see the development of technology
in its totality. We can be extremely proficient at questioning his as-
sumptions and conceptual distinctions, but we usually avoid tackling
his conclusions or their meaning. Often these conclusions and their
general logic are formidable. In this sense much of what passes for criti-
cism of the substance of Ellul’s theory is more properly considered
small potatoes quibbling about his methodology. All of Ellul’s writing

Engines of Change 65

is informed by a desire to avoid the sterility of most modern thought,
a sterility that comes from (among other sources) an unwillingness to
risk an answer to the question, What is it that I see before me? While
Ellul is obviously aware of the myriad of complex and delicate nuances
bearing on his subject matter, he has elected to ignore many of them in
order to proceed with his theory. Choices of this sort always involve a
risk. But in taking that risk Ellul achieves something that is increasingly
rare in modem social theory—the willingness to offer a complete, un-
compromising statement.

What, then, is the significance of Ellul’s position on self-augmenta-
tion? What questions of interest does it raise about technological
change?

The aim of Ellul’s discussion is to identify the origins of technologi-
cal novelty. He is interested in the general circumstances which influ-
ence the introduction of new discoveries and devices into the world in
an ever-expanding, ever-accelerating flood. What most people take for
granted, Ellul finds an extraordinary state of affairs. Modern societies
and their members must continually respond to scientific and techno-
logical innovations for which they have little or no preparation. Yet the
tide continues, essentially unplanned and unabated, with neither limit
nor preconceived direction. In recent years a number of scholars have
joined Ellul in taking wonder at this situation, but most of them have
seen the issue as one of personal and social adaptation. Few have
wanted to do what Ellul insists must be done: to notice the elements of
dynamism, necessity, and ineluctability built into the origins of the
process.

As we have seen, the dynamism that Ellul uncovers at this level is
based on a series of contingencies. It is based on an if... then kind of
logic, with an attempt to demonstrate that all of the “‘ifs’’ actually
hold. The self-augmentation of technique results from the conver-
gence of three conditions: (1) the universal willingness of people to
seek and employ technological innovations, (2) the existence of or-
ganized social systems in all technical fields, and (3) the existence of
technical forms upon which new combinations and modifications are

Autonomous Technology 66

based. If all of these elements are present, the rapid expansion of tech-
nique is assured.

Perhaps the most interesting implication of Ellul’s case is that each
specific invention or discovery in a sense “‘has its time,” a time when its
introduction into the world becomes virtually (though not absolutely)
inevitable. Each new advance is latent in the existing technical en-
semble. Given the social system of inquirers and innovators, it will
somehow find its way into the world. Someone will find that ‘‘it works
this way”’ or “‘this is how it fits together.”

George Kubler advances a similar point, in his provocative interpre-
tation of the history of art. Even the most original pieces, he argues, are
more or less similar to artifacts of the same sort (painting, sculpture,
pottery, or some other) that came before. The life of an artist and the
character of his or her works must, therefore, be seen as a matter of
their position in a continuing sequence of lives and works. “When a
specific temperament interlocks with a favorable position,” Kubler
explains, ‘‘the fortunate individual can extract from the situation a
wealth of unimagined consequences. This achievement may be denied
to other persons, as well as to the same person at a different time. Thus
every birth can be imagined as set into play on two wheels of fortune,
one governing the allotment of its temperament, and the other ruling
its entrance into a sequence.” 98

As evidence for his case, Ellul cites a peculiar situation in modern
science and technology: the frequent occurrence of simultaneous dis-
coveries and inventions. Anthropologist A. L. Kroeber was also fasci-
nated with this state of affairs and drew conclusions similar to Ellul’s.
His research revealed that many important advances—among them the
telegraph, telephone, photography, the periodic law of elements—had
come from the work of two or more individuals working independently
at approximately the same time. In Kroeber’s eyes this tended ‘‘to
instill a conviction that inventions may be inevitable, within certain
limits; that given a certain constellation and development of a culture,
certain inventions must be made.’’59 Kroeber did not believe that this
discovery need dampen the spirit of scientists and technicians. They

Enginesof Change 67

would, after all, still receive credit for their work from their peers. But
in a larger sense, the cultural sense, “‘it is only a question of who will
work the idea out feasibly. Will it be Bell or Gray in 1876, or someone
else in 1877 or 1878 or perhaps as early as 1875? To the individual
inventor the ‘Who’ is all-important, because it means who is to get the
prize. To his society, and to the world at large, the ‘Who?’ is really
a matter of indifference—except for sentimental partisanship—because
the invention was going to be made anyway about when and where it
was made.” 60 Kroeber, furthermore, was not the least bit shy in label-
ing this situation a variety of determinism: ‘‘In a familiar metaphor, we
say that the discovery is now in the air, or that the time is ripe for it.
More precisely, inventions are culturally determined. Such a statement
must not be given a mystical connotation. It does not mean, for in-
stance, that it was predetermined from the beginning of time that type
printing would be discovered in Germany about 1450, or the telephone
in the United States in 1876. Determinism in this connection means
only that there is a definable relation between a specific condition of a
given culture and the making of a particular invention.” ©!

We are justified in asking Ellul and Kroeber whether there is any
substance to this determinism. Is it not possible to pose the same ob-
jection that we placed at the door of the technoevolutionists: that they
had actually assumed what they later discovered—the insignificance of
the human being in the multiplication of technics?

To be more specific, we must ask whether the kind of involuntarism
found here is merely a product of Ellul’s chosen theoretical perspective.
In his argument, the rate of technical progress becomes a “‘social fact”
in much the same way that the suicide rate was a social fact for Durk-
heim. Individual inventions or individual acts are of little interest. The
status of particular deeds and of their voluntary character is discounted.
In laying the foundations of his sociological method, Durkheim put
forth the following rule: “The voluntary character of a practice or an
institution should never be assumed before hand.”®2 After examining
cases in which this rule and others would be useful in the study of so-
ciety, he went on to state the principle more forcefully: ‘The determin-

Autonomous Technology 68

ing cause of a social fact should be sought among the social facts pre-
ceding it and not among the states of individual consciousness.’’§3

But for Ellul, as for Durkheim, the withering of freely made deci-
sions and actions within the social fact is never merely a methodologi-
cal convenience. A social fact is truly a fact. It has reality of its own
and imposes a kind of necessity upon people in society. Ellul, follow-
ing Durkheim, is not merely suggesting where or how to look at some-
thing. He is trying to get at the truth of the matter. For the sake of
argument we may grant Ellul’s proviso that in most cases the individuals
involved will not perceive the context of necessity in which they exist.
But if the self-augmentation of technique is a fact, then we would ex-
pect that it would have been noticed, at least on occasion, by those
caught up in its forward sweep. Are there any such cases?

Ellul’s account is one way of thinking about a condition that has
come to plague many scientists and technicians in the mid-twentieth
century. Sensing that the fruits of their labor may well have pernicious
implications for the future of the human race, these people have also
realized that there is really no choice but to continue. Whether positive
or negative in its implications, the development at hand will enter the
world.

The poignancy of this state of affairs is etched on the pages of
Werner Heisenberg’s Physics and Beyond. In a chapter on the responsi-
bility of the scientist, Heisenberg tells of the day in 1945 when he and
his fellow German scientists, then held in captivity by the Allies,
learned that an atom bomb had been dropped on Hiroshima. “I had
reluctantly to accept the fact,’’ he recalls, “that the progress of atomic
physics in which I had participated for twenty-five long years had now
led to the death of more than a hundred thousand people.” 64 In the
passage that follows, Heisenberg.reconstructs from memory the conver-
sations he had with the other scientists held prisoner—Otto Hahn,
Max von Laue, Walther Gerlach, Carl Friedrich von Weizsacker, and
Karl Wirtz. ‘Worst of all,” Heisenberg remembers, ‘‘was Otto Hahn.
Uranium fission, his most important scientific discovery, had been the
crucial step on the road to atomic power.”’ Hahn immediately retreated

Engines of Change 69

to his quarters, “‘visibly shaken and deeply disturbed, and all of us were
afraid that he might do himself some injury.” ©

In Hahn’s absence, Carl Friedrich von Weizsacker spoke of the
quandary in which the scientists found themselves. “It is easy to see
why Hahn should be dejected. His greatest scientific discovery now
bears the taint of unimaginable horror. But should he really be feeling
guilty? Any more guilty than any of us others who have worked in
atomic physics? Don’t all of us bear part of the responsibility, a share
of his guilt??? 66

“TI don’t think so,” Heisenberg replied. ‘‘The word ‘guilt’ does not
really apply, even though all of us were links in the causal chain that led
to this great tragedy. Otto Hahn and all of us have merely played our
part in the development of modern science. This development is a vital
process, on which mankind, or at least European man, embarked cen-
turies ago—or, if you prefer to put it less strongly, which he ac-
cepted.” 67

The physicists went on to affirm their belief in the essential good-
ness of scientific knowledge and to ponder whether a world govern-
ment might bring the matter of right or wrong ends under control. In
Carl Friedrich’s words, ‘‘Our task, now as in the past, is to guide this
development toward the right ends, to extend the benefits of knowl-
edge to all mankind, not to prevent the development itself. Hence the
correct question is: What can the individual scientist do to help in this
task; what are the precise obligations of the scientific research
worker?” 68

Heisenberg’s answer to this question, based on his conception of
how science grows, is an interesting one. He denies that the individual
scientist can have any special responsibility for his discoveries.

“If we look upon the development of science as an historical process
on a world scale,” I replied, ‘‘your question reminds me of the old
problem of the role of the individual in history. It seems certain that in
either field the individual is replaceable. If Einstein had not discovered
relativity theory, it would have been discovered sooner or later by
someone else, perhaps by Poincaré or Lorentz. If Hahn had not dis-

Autonomous Technology 70

covered uranium fission, perhaps Fermi or Joliot would have hit upon it
a few years later.... For that very reason, the individual who makes a
crucial discovery cannot be said to bear greater responsibility for its
consequences than all the other individuals who might have made it.
The pioneer has simply been placed in the right spot by history, and has
done no more than perform the task he has been set.” 69

The issue here is not merely the one most frequently noted, that
scientific discoveries and technological advances have a capacity for
both benefit and harm. It is, instead, that there is evidently an element
of virtual necessity or inevitability at work here. “The worst thing
about it all,” Heisenberg tells his companions, “‘is precisely the realiza-
tion that it was all so unavoidable.” One might suppose that at the level
of invention or discovery the choice is always open to suppress the de-
velopment. But as Carl Friedrich correctly points out, this is not the
scientist’s job. “Our task is...not to prevent the development itself.”
And there is, indeed, little evidence in the history of science and tech-
nology of anyone suppressing his work because he believed it might
have adverse consequences for humanity. 70 Heisenberg’s contribution
is to show that even if such feelings did exist, it would make no differ-
ence. Someone else is bound to introduce the knowledge or device into
the world. The scientist’s only choice is to enter the moral and politi-
cal discussion that follows upon the development, and here his voice is
just one among the multitude. ‘He may possibly be able to exert just a
little extra influence on the subsequent progress of his discovery, but
that is all. In fact, Hahn invariably made a point of speaking out in
favor of the exclusive use of uranium to peaceful purposes... of
course, he had no influence on developments in America.” a

Heisenberg’s thinking here is neither unique nor an aberration. We
can find similar sentiments in much of the contemporary literature on
the social responsibility of the scientist. In Norbert Wiener’s Cyber-
netics, the author ponders the implications of his work in communi-
cations theory and sinks into a melancholy mood.

Those of us who have contributed to the new science of cybernetics
thus stand in a moral position which is, to say the least, not very com-

Engines of Change 71

fortable. We have contributed to the initiation of a new science which,
as I have said, embraces technical developments for good and evil. We
can only hand it over into the world that exists about us, and this is the
world of Belsen and Hiroshima. We do not even have the choice of sup-
pressing these new technical developments. They belong to the age, and
the most any of us can do by suppression is to put the development of
the subject into the hands of the most irresponsible and most venal of
our engineers... there are those who hope that the good of a better
understanding of man and society which is offered by this new field
of work may anticipate and outweigh the incidental contribution we
are making to the concentration of power (which is always concen-
trated, by its very conditions of existence, in the hands of the most un-
scrupulous). I write in 1947, and I am compelled to say that it is a very
slight hope./2

There are times when a choice cannot be made and when the drift of
events cannot be halted. This is the irony that Ellul describes: Men are
free in one respect but totally boxed in in another. At the points of
origin, technology moves steadily onward as if by cause and effect. This
does not deny human creativity, intelligence, idiosyncracy, chance, or
the willful desire to head in one direction rather than another. All of
these are absorbed into the process and become moments in the
progression.

The statements of Heisenberg and Wiener mirror the myth of Pan-
dora’s box or, perhaps more fittingly, Greek tragedy itself. What we
witness is the predicament of those who look on helplessly as their
deeds contribute to what may well be their own downfall and, possibly,
the downfall of the entire community. An atom-space-computer age
Moira is at work here—a fate that employs the free action of men to
bring about ends that carry an aroma of necessity.

One need not look to the great luminaries of science and technics to
hear this story told. Inertia in technological evolution is now experi-
enced as a problem at a much more mundane level, the level at which
most people live and work. Announced by such terms as “future
shock,” “temporary society,” and “occupational obsolescence,” the
fear continues to grow that the pace of advancing technology makes it

Autonomous Technology 72

difficult for a person to keep up with the techniques required for his
work or to adapt to the technical changes that again and again revo-
lutionize basic conditions of social existence. These anxieties are ac-
tually much closer to what Ellul tries to express—the never-ending, ever-
accelerating expansion of technics in every field. While the technoevolu-
tionist view of obsolete homo sapiens seems ill founded, the possibility
of human obsolescence in everyday work is very real indeed.

To search for schools of thought that offer an alternate course to
this onward momentum is futile. There are none. Any suggestion that
there be a slowdown, limitation, or moratorium on scientific inquiry,
research, and development is unthinkable at present. By general con-
sensus, one may not tamper with the source. Faced with the possible
dangers to human life involved in their research on DNA, an inter-
national group of molecular biologists called a moratorium on a part of
their work in 1974 and 1975. It was the first such moratorium in
memory, and, predictably, it was short-lived. Existing safeguards, the
scientists finally decided, were adequate to handle the dangers. But at
meetings held on the subject, the chilling point was frequently raised
that the technical capability required to do the potentially perilous
research might soon be within the reach of high school chemistry stu-
dents, not to mention unscrupulous investigators uninterested in ethics
or safeguards. Nobel Prizes are not won by suppressing research tech-
niques or fruitful lines of inquiry. The argument, “If we don’t do it,
somebody else will,” cuts in more than one direction.

What Ellul labels ‘‘self-augmentation,”’ then, far from being a mys-
terious process, is a reflection of the ongoing work of thousands of indi-
viduals in our scientific and technical communities supported by some
of our most cherished beliefs. None of this implies that outcomes are
inevitable in any absolute sense. As Kubler observes, ‘‘The presence of
the conditions for an event does not guarantee the occurrence of that
event in a domain where a man can contemplate an action without
committing it.” 73 But for whatever reason, the sphere of technological
development tends not to be one in which human motives are scrupu-
lously clarified or where prudence reigns. In hearings before the Person-

Engines of Change 79

nel Security Board in 1954, J. Robert Oppenheimer was asked whether
lt was true that his qualms about whether the United States ought to
develop the hydrogen bomb increased as the feasibility of the device
became clearer. He answered: “I think it is the opposite of true. Let us
not say about use. But my feeling about development became quite
different when the practicabilities became clear. When I saw how to do
it, it was clear to me that one had to at least make the thing. Then the
only problem was what would one do about them when one had them.
The program in 1949 was a tortured thing that you could well argue did
not make a great deal of technical sense. It was therefore possible to
argue also that you did not want it even if you could have it. The pro-
gram in 1951 was technically so sweet that you could not argue about
that.” 74

Evidently technological accomplishment has become a temptation
that no person can reasonably be expected to resist. The fact that some-
thing is technically sweet is enough to warrant placing the world in

jeopardy.

Technological Determinism

The root of our word invention means “‘to come upon,” while that of
innovation points to something that “renews or makes new.” Today the
relationship between things freshly come upon and things made new is
taken for granted; the link between discovery in science, invention in
technics, and innovation in society seems automatic. There have been
times, however, when this connection did not hold. In ancient Greece,
in Hellenistic civilization, and in Islam of the Middle Ages we find cul-
tures in which highly sophisticated scientific and technical knowledge
existed without a profound effect on social practice. The Alexandrian
inventors of the second and third centuries B.C. worked with devices
which were to play an important role in modern European industry.
Hero of Alexandria, for example, developed primitive versions of the
basic elements of the railroad—the steam engine and a wheeled cart that
moved along on wooden rails. But in the setting of the period, such
inventions had little utility. Science remained an isolated realm of

Autonomous Technology 74

‘contemplation. Experimental technics became an activity that aimed at
producing little more than ingenious curiosities. The only use found for
Hero’s marvelous railway was the hand-driven deus ex machina, a deity
in Greek and Roman drama wheeled in to influence the action taking
place on stage. His steam engine prototype, ‘“‘The Sphere of Aeolus,”
was never more than an interesting toy. Pondering the eventual paraly-
sis of Greek science and technics, Benjamin Farrington concludes,
“The ancients rigorously organized the logical aspects of science, lifted
them out of the body of technical activity in which they had grown or
in which they should have found their application, and set them apart
from the world of practice and above it? 75

[In modern society men and institutions readily embrace inventions
and discoveries and take steps to see that they quickly become inno-
vations in the broader sphere of practical activity,,No longer do we find
that an invention waits for decades or centuries before entering an
active role in civilization. The phenomenon of rapid, seemingly ubiqui-
tous innovation provides an important set of questions for the idea of
autonomous technology, for changes in technics bring about changes in
other things as well. Whereas the immediate application of a particular
technology is usually conscious and deliberate, other consequences of
its presence in the world often are not. It is this gap between original
intentions on the one hand and ultimate effects on the other, between
the truly chosen and the never chosen, that has perplexed many schools
of thought in our time.

To speak of technological change in terms of its broader effects
raises a question that can easily become a swamp of intellectual mud-
dles: the doctrine of technological determinism. Often couched in the
noncommittal language of ‘‘the impact of technological innovation,”
the idea plays a prominent role in a great deal of contemporary writing
on technology and society. One need only look at the literature on
“technology assessment,” “social indicators,” ‘alternative futures” or
“the year 2000” to see uncriticized quasideterministic assumptions at
the center of speculation and research./6"The works of Daniel Bell,
Herman Kahn, Olaf Helmer, Raymond Bauer, and other notables are

Engines of Change 75

clearly informed by the belief that alterations in technology have been
and will probably continue to be a primary cause of change in our
institutions, practices, and ideas.; Very often the issue is dodged by

see

focusing on a single development in technics and observing its “‘im-
pact.” A scholar demonstrates how satellite communications will have
a tremendous influence on our social or political life or how ‘“funda-
mental changes in the socio-economic system ...are being brought
about through drives exerted on the whole social fabric by the appli-
cations of cybernetics in the form of computerized systems.” 77 But the
implications of these views or the general theory which could make
them meaningful in a world in which satellites and computers are just
one segment of an expanding technical complex are not considered.
In a fundamental sense, of course, determining things is what tech-'
nology is all about. If it were not determining, it would be of no use
and certainly of little interest. The concept ‘“‘determine’”’ in its mundane
meaning suggests giving direction to, deciding the course of, establish-
ing definitely, fixing the form or configuration of something.’8"The
first function of any technology—and the immediate condition of its
utility—is to give a definite, artificial form to a set of materials or to
a specific human activity. To put it differently, it provides structure for
the primary medium to which it is applied. An apparatus is a structure
of material parts so assembled as to produce determinate, predictable
results when placed in operation. A technique is a structure of human
behavior designed to accomplish a definite outcome. A technical or-
ganization is an assemblage of human beings and apparatus in struc-
tured relationships designed to produce certain specified results. A tech-
nical operation, to the extent that one engages in it, determines what
one does. If the operation is successful, we may say that the technology
determined the result. This does not mean that either the technology
or its result are totally rigid or inflexible! What it does indicate is that
technology succeeds through the conquest of disorder and the imposi-
tion of form.
Controversies on the matter, however, stem from a much broader
and more dubious notion. Understood in its strongest sense, techno-

Autonomous Technology 76

“\ogical determinism stands or falls on two hypotheses: (1) that the tech-
nical base of a society is the fundamental condition affecting all pat-
terns of social existence and (2) that changes in technology are the
single most important source of change in society, In this form very few
thinkers have been willing to adopt an unabashedly determinist posi-

One of the intrepid, anthropologist Leslie White,;explains: “We

tion.
may view a cultural system as a series of three horizontal strata: the
technological layer on the bottom, the philosophical on the top, the
sociological stratum in between. These positions express their respective
roles in the culture process. The technological system is basic and pri-
mary. Social systems are functions of technologies; and philosophies
express technological forces and reflect social systems. The techno-
logical factor is therefore the determinant of a cultural system as a
whole. It determines the form of social systems, and technology and
society together determine the content and orientation of philoso-
phy.” 79

The standard objections to this view emphasize both a methodo-
logical and a moral point. On the one hand there is the problem central
to any cultural or social science of isolating ‘“‘causes.’’ It is almost
impossible to single out any one factor as the origin of the changes that
must be explained. The idea that technology or anything else could be
the primary determinant is impossible to prove! Patterns of technology
are themselves largely influenced by the conditions of the societies in
which they exist.80 The kinds of tools and technical arrangements
found in Japan bear the distinctive stamp of that nation’s cultural
traditions and will be different from technologies with the same ap-
proximate functions in Italy or the United States.8! The character of a
society and the changes that take place in it are the product of a vast
set of possible causes—climate, geography, population, religious prac-
tices, the market, political structure, and so forth. Within the state of
our present knowledge, it is not possible to demonstrate conclusively
that technology or any other single factor is most important.,

Along with this come objections which the voluntaristic position
raises. The determinist doctrine offends our sense that fundamental

Engines of Change 77

technological conditions .are.. chosen and that social forms relateg to
technology are not merely the passive imprint of new varieties of appa-
ratus or technique. ‘‘As our understanding of the history increases “
becomes clear that a new device merely opens a door; it does not coy,
pel one to enter.’’82 Such assertions are generally offered as reassurance
that society is, after all, free to choose and that it is a mistake to look
for elements of determinism in the course of technological change,

But although fraught with difficulties, the idea of determinism is not
one that ought to be rejected out of hand. The tendency to dismiss the
entire issue after scoring a single moral or methodological point place, e
taboo on important questions that even a cursory glance at modern pig
tory suggests are among those most crucial to an understanding of our
age. Looking at specific changes—the building of the railroads, elect,;_
fication, Taylorism, mass communications—it is clear that there are
many ways in which technics has shaped the specific forms of mode;
life. A vague multifactoralism and glib reassertion of the volun tarjst
position bestow a haphazard, soft-headed quality to much of the };,_
torical scholarship and social theory on this question. William Ogburn:,
cultural lag thesis, whereby social and cultural institutions are seen 1,
drag behind technological development by a number of years, is still,
unfortunately, just about the most profound general view that wy.
have.83

The task, then, is to avoid throwing out the baby with the methodo.
logical bath water. To help us decide what is living and what is deag jy
the discussion about determinism there is no better place to begin thay
a reexamination of the social theorist who was first to give the matte,
systematic, rigorous attention. In many ways the writings of Karl Mar,
are still unsurpassed in their clarity and insight on this theme.

Marx’s conception of technical and social change is an aspect of his
general theory of historical materialism. The theory, an attack upon the
philosophical and political idealism of his time, argues that people g,
not establish their conditions of life or their identities through spop.
taneous, preconceived ideas. ‘‘What individuals are... ,’” he asserts)
‘depends on the material conditions of their production.” 84 AS note

Autonomous Technology 78

earlier, Marx holds that human beings are necessarily involved in sen-
suous, productive activity in a world of material things. Since life and
production are virtual equivalents, the mode of production present in a
society takes on a supreme significance. ‘“‘This mode of production,”
Marx explains, “‘must not be considered simply as being the reproduc-
tion of the physical existence of the individuals. Rather it is a definite
form of activity of these indiviuals, a definite form of expressing their
life, a definite mode of life on their part. As individuals express their
life, so they are. What they are, therefore, coincides with their produc-
tion, both with what they produce and with how they produce. The
nature of individuals thus depends on the material conditions determin-
ing their production.” 85

( It is upon this view of man, life, and activity that the deterministic
elements in Marx’s theory are based. A famous summary statement in
the preface.to The Critique of Political Economy indicates how broadly
he understands the workings of this historical principle: “The mode of
production of material life determines the general character of the
social, political and spiritual processes of life.”86 |

In other writings Marx goes on to separate the notion of mode or

conditions of production into two distinct categories: forces of produc-
tion and relations of production. Although there is some variation in
the manner in which Marx uses these terms, for our purposes “forces of
production” can be understood to comprise | all of ‘Physical technology»
Marx usually « employs the term to mean the sum total of “tools, instru-
ments,_and.machines available in a society, plus all sources of energy
that move these implements: steam, water, coal, animal, and human
power. By selecting the term forces of production (Productivskrafte) he

brings together under a single concept the instruments, energy, and

labor involved in the active effort of individuals to change material
reality to suit their needs.

Again and again in his writing Marx states that the forces of produc-
tion play a determining role in human history. There are indeed other
factors present as well, but by far the most important influences upon
the shape. and content of social existence are thosé exerted by the

Engines of Change 79

forces of production.87 In The German Ideology we read “‘that the
multitude of productive forces accessible to men determines the nature
of society, hence that the ‘history of humanity’ must always be studied
and treated in relation to the ane of inclitstey and erehange: 88
men change their mode of Sion andi in chaiigide ‘their mode of
production, in changing the way of earning their living, they change all
their social relations. The handmill gives you society with the feudal

lord; the steam-mill, society. with the industrial capitalist.” 89

-—Tnsofar as there is significant change in society, it is usually because

there has been a change in the forces of production. In the language
of social science, Marx has isolated the primary independent variable
active in all of history. His illustrations of how it affected the course
of human development are drawn from the whole of the historical
record. Pointing to the changes which brought the ‘feudal system’”’ to
Europe, for example, he concludes, “To what an extent this form was
determined by the productive forces is shown by the abortive attempts
to realize other forms derived from reminiscences of ancient Rome
(Charlemagne, etc.).”90 All of men’s conscious designs that run athwart
the productive forces are inevitably frustrated.

Further elements of determinism in Marx’s theory can be seen in
his view that within each historical period the social relationships found
within the productive process are a function of the forces of production
existing at the time. He argues that ‘“‘a change in men’s productive
forces necessarily begins a change in their relations of production.” 9!
New relations are formed and older ones are destroyed. In describing
this situation Marx is emphatic about the direct connection between
forces of production and what he terms ‘‘the division of labor.” As
forces of production develop, as they become more numerous, more
sophisticated, more powerful, they necessitate a further development in
the division of labor. There is an increase in the number of technical
and financial operations, an increase in the complexity of the social
organization of work, and a specialization of the skills required in all
labor. ‘‘How far the productive forces of a nation are developed is

Autonomous Technology 80

shown most manifestly by the degree to which the division of labor has
been carried. Each new productive force, in so far as it is not merely a
quantitative extension of productive forces already known, (for in-
stance the bringing into cultivation of fresh land), brings about a fur-
ther development of the division of labour.”92 The introduction of
machinery in modern industry had, for example, led to a further de-
velopment of the social division and organization of labor. While in
most cases Marx seems to be saying that there is a one-way influence
between the forces and relations of production, he also notes that there
is a circular process of development occurring here. ‘‘As the concentra-
tion of instruments develops, the division develops also, and vice versa.
This is why every big mechanical invention is followed by a greater
division of labour, and each increase in the division of labour gives rise
in turn to new mechanical inventions.” 99

It would be a mistake, however, to interpret Marx’s treatment of

such “relations” and ‘‘divisions’” in any narrow manner. His analysis’

can indeed be used to think about specific industrial operations on a
limited scale. It can help us understand what would be socially neces-
sary to operate a particular factory given a certain kind of machinery.
But his categories are also meant to be understood in a very general
sense. Georg Lukacs is correct in pointing out that Marx’s intention is
to describe a “totality.” 94 In the end, the relations of production con-
sist of all organized relationships in society. The division of labor in-
cludes every existing division in socially necessary, productive labor
throughout the whole social system. Thé forces of production deter-
mine the full scope of these divisions and relationships. In Marx’s
words," “With the acquisition of new productive faculties, men change
their mode of production and with the mode of production all the
economic relations which are merely the necessary relations of this
particular mode of production.” 95

Seen in this way, purely technical relationships and economic rela-
tionships amount to the same thing. “Division of labor and private
property are, moreover, identical expressions: in one the same thing
is affirmed with reference to activity as is affirmed in the other with

Engines of Change 81

reference to the product of activity.”96 From the relations of produc-
tion and division of labor spring property, ownership, social class, and,
ultimately, the consciousness of persons in each class. In a rough
approximation one can say that the available productive forces “‘cause”’
the shapes of sociotechnical organization, ownership, and class struc-
ture one finds in society. But a more accurate statement would be
that these social configurations are those both appropriate to and neces-
sary for the productive forces at hand.

In summary, Marx begins with the notion that the mode of produc-
tion forms a whole and that it is a mode of life. That which determines
production determines the life of a society in its full spectrum. This
comes about not as the result of remote causes but rather as a conse-
quence of willful, active human individuals responding to what is both
possible and necessary in their time. It is, however, above all else the
available technology which enforces limits upon the possible and the
necessary. History reveals the existence of social classes vastly unequal
in wealth and power, formed in a struggle defined by the conditions of
material production.

There is a point at which Marx simply assumes the determining in-
fluence of “the “the technical composition of capital” ‘and begins a full-
scale study of f the labor theory of value value, the he accumulation of cap capital,
and so on. For our purposes here, we will not not follow him in that diréc-
tion. ~Fhe. standard categories of economics, whether in Marxian or
liberal form, tend to assume too much and reduce technological issues
to a few abstract variables that render invisible a great expanse of
interesting territory. Despite its undeniable merits, the approach taken
by the economist tends to obscure many pressing questions, including
the one before us now: technological determinism and freedom.

In its most extreme aspect, of course, Marx’s work aims at devising
a rigorous science. Historical materialism in the scientific sense set out
to discover deterministic laws of social change and to make accurate
predictions based on such laws. It was this feature of Marxism that
Friedrich Engels tried to carry beyond what Marx had done, a feature
that attracted many nineteenth- and twentieth-century followers. This

Autonomous Technology 82

attempt at science, best seen in Engel’s Dialectics of Nature and Anti-
Dihring, is proudly deterministic as it views events in nature and history
and as it regards the possibility of human freedom. Bound by laws of
historical materialism, individuals, classes, and societies have little au-
tonomy to guide their own character or development.97

By the standards normally applied to scientific work, historical ma-
terialism fares very poorly. Its methodology in accounting for the al-
legedly dialectical changes taking place in society is at best highly sus-
pect. Its futility in formulating and testing objective, predictive laws is
notorious. Increasingly, Marxism finds its adherents among those in-
terested in its richness as a philosophy or mode of social analysis rather
than in its more ambitious scientific claims. The failure of the deter-
ministic science, however, cannot be taken as sufficient to reinstate
voluntarism. Marx’s rich insights into the forces that shape human
action do not depend on the ability to produce a science of society as
reliable as physics. Taking his work as a point of reference, one should
now be able to summarize briefly a set of claims that, though less grand
than those sometimes made, constitutes a reasonable notion of techno-
logical determinism and the problems it presents for human freedom.

To emphasize what should already be clear, Marx’s view does not
consider individuals helpless automatons obeying clockwork patterns
or passively receiving the imprint of history’s stamping press. His sense
of the human being as an active, productive agent carries through to
his conception of change. “It is not ‘history’ which uses men as means
of achieving—as if it were an individual person—its own ends. History is
nothing but the activity of men in pursuit of their ends.’’98 But this
does not mean that men are totally free to select what they will do or
the conditions under which they will live. To the contrary, it is always
the case that individuals are severely limited in what they can choose.
Marx again and again derides the view that sees history as an open and
infinite set of opportunities waiting to be seized upon by men of imagi-
nation, pluck, and luck. In particular, men are not at liberty with regard
to the forces of production with which they must live. These are, for

Engines of Change 83

the most part, received as the accumulated product of discoveries,
inventions, and everyday work from previous generations.

uf
It is superfluous to add that men are not free to choose their produc-
tive forces—which are the basis of all their history—for every productive
force is an acquired force, the product of former activity. The produc-
tive forces are therefore the result of practical human energy; but this
energy is itself conditioned by the circumstances in which men find
themselves, by the productive forces already acquired, by the social form”
which exists before they do, which they do not create, which is the
product of the preceding generation. Because of this simple fact that
every succeeding generation finds itself in possession of the productive
forces acquired by the previous generation, which serve it as the raw
material for new production, a coherence arises in human history.99

To speak of ‘‘determinism”’ in circumstances of this kind is perhaps
to put the case too strongly. Marx calls our attention to the fact that
each generation is strongly conditioned or informed by a technological
inheritance that it in no sense “chose.”’ While it is always possible that
a particular generation might wish to review this inheritance, scrutinize
the patterns that technics gives to life, and make new choices on the
basis of this critique, such a procedure is not in fact something that
occurs to anyone to do. In the main, the sociotechnical context into
which we are born must simply be accepted as given.“Means of produc-
tion,’’ Marx concludes, “do not depend on free will.” 100 Va

Another important theme of determinism in Marx’s theory focuses
upon the way in which technologies give structure to human needs. In
Marx’s view, needs are not present in any simple, finished form in man’s
biological composition. Instead they are relative to and change with the
condition of society at a given time and at a particular stage in the forces
of production. The Grundrisse observes that ‘“‘needs were slight in the
beginning, and only developed with the productive forces.” 101 Marx
exalts capital because it propels civilization beyand “self-sufficient
satisfaction of existing needs confined within well-defined bounds, and
the reproduction of the traditional way of life. It is destructive of all
this, and permanently revolutionary, tearing down all obstacles that

Autonomous Technology 84

impede the development of productive forces, the expansion of needs,
the diversity of production and the exploitation and exchange of natu-
ral and intellectual forces.” 102¢ As technology advances, human needs
actually “expand” and change in quality. Potentially, he believes, this
tendency toward growth and development in human motives is a limit-
less process. !93

The concept of need contains at least two meanings. It signifies both
a notion of necessity—things wanted because they comprise conditions
for survival or basic human existence—and a notion of desire—things
not strictly necessary but wanted for the satisfaction they bring. If one
begins with the supposition that the human being has as part of its
basic character a general unformed set of urges, then the technological
determinism of need becomes a powerful hypothesis. Humans require
such things as food, shelter, sex, and the opportunity to communicate
with their fellows. But once they adopt a particular technical form in
pursuit of these ends, the context of both necessity and desire becomes
highly specific. At a certain stage in the development of technics, the
need for physical mobility actually becomes the need to have access to
automobiles, airlines, or effective equivalents. Such needs are as basic
for that stage of technical capacity as the need for oxen or a good pair
of sandals might have been for an earlier one. The development of pro-
ductive forces not only generates variations on older needs but in a
true sense creates whole new ones. Thus, the feeling that soap is one of
life’s necessities appeared only with the coming of industrial techniques
of soap manufacture. With the spread of this innovation came an
unprecedented desire for a well-scrubbed cleanliness that is now second
nature to most of us. There have been times and cultures, however, in
which our need to do away with dirt, “germs,”’ and odors would have
seemed totally puzzling.

Marx’s conception of technological innovation and its relationship to
change in social forms and human motives presents a direct challenge to
voluntarist notions of choice. Nowhere in his theory are free, deliberate
decisions excluded as a logical possibility. There is no metaphysical
argument that our universe is such that freedom cannot exist. What

Engines of Change 85

Marx brings us to question, however, is the matter of when and where
something properly called a ‘“‘choice’’ comes up at all. His conclusion is
that the arena here is actually quite small. History moves by a much
less self-conscious, deliberate process with regard to forces of produc-
tion, a process that adds up to a kind of continuing adaptation. Oppor-
tunities for willful, conscious choice about social patterns linked to the
forces of production never arise. That is not the way change occurs.
“History shows,” he argues, “how the division of labour peculiar to
manufacture, strictly so called, acquires the best adapted form at first
by experience, as it were behind the backs of actors, and then like the
guild handicrafts, strives to hold fast that form when once found, and
here and there succeeds in keeping it for centuries. Any alteration in
this form, except in trivial matters, is solely owing to a revolution in
the instruments of labour.” !04

Marx’s contention that changes take shape ‘“‘behind the backs of
actors” may seem contradicted by the fact that certain persons ob-
viously do make decisions and choices in the process. Inventors or those
in today’s business of research and development do have the oppor-
tunity to choose among a variety of possible paths that technics might
take. A selection can be made between a new automobile assembly line
run by automation or by a predominance of manual labor. Similarly,
entrepreneurs have the chance to make certain choices at other junc-
tures. Thus, for example, Aristotle Onassis did decide to build a fleet
of supertankers. Those who designed and built the ships made choices
about their physical characteristics and the social organization of work
on board.

But before deciding the issue, Marx would have us consider the total
range of effects in human life over a long period of time occasioned by
the assembly line, supertanker, or any other significant development in
forces of production. One aspect of the truth, surely, is that a relative
few are able to make choices that bind the many. But even beyond this,
as we look to the entire process of change, is a vast series of partial
adaptations adding up to results that no one “chose” or “controlled.”
For example, when a badly constructed supertanker breaks up on the

Autonomous Technology 86

shoals, spreading oil on beaches, we must understand that the event has
something to do with decades of technical and social change that
created the circumstances for the calamity. But does it make sense to
say, as the voluntarist argument suggests, that we ‘‘chose’’ the design
of the ships, the form of Onassis’s corporation, the social and political
conditions under which the boats sail, or the eventual crack-up? When
we think back on it, we do not remember having been consulted.

Much of our ordinary contact with things technological, I would
argue, is of exactly this kind. Each individual lives with procedures,
rules, processes, institutions, and material devices that are not of his
making but powerfully shape what he does. It is scarcely even imagi-
nable what it would mean for each of us to make decisions about the
vast array of sociotechnical circumstances that enter our experience.

A powerful illustration of the issues of determinism and choice in
technological development is provided by Pertti J. Pelto’s study of the
changes brought to the Skolt Lapps of Finland by the introduction of
the snowmobile into their society in the 1960s. In many ways the story
reflects in miniature the whole course of the industrial revolution. The
Lapps of the Sevettijarvi region deliberately chose to use snowmobiles
as a replacement for dogsleds and skis in the basis of their economy—
reindeer herding. But they neither chose nor intended the effects this
change would have in totally reshaping the ecological and social rela-
tionships upon which their traditional culture depended.!%

First introduced to the Sevettijarvi region of Finland by a school-
teacher who used it on fishing expeditions, the snowmobile was soon
adopted by the Skolts as an important innovation in their work. The
speed of the machines made it possible to do the annual reindeer
roundup in a single operation. As a consequence, the age-old winter
herding practices that kept the herdsmen and animals in close contact
became unnecessary and were abandoned. Under this arrangement pre-
viously ‘‘tame’’ reindeer returned to the wild and could be corralled
only by a blitz of organized snowmobiles. While there were obvious
economic benefits that resulted from the use of the new machines, a
number of lamentable side effects were soon noticed. Possibly a result

Engines of Change 87

of physiological strain placed on pregnant female reindeer by the stam-
pede running of mechanized roundups, the fertility and population of
the herds fell off sharply. The absolute decline in number of animals was
compounded by a marked decrease in the number of Skolt families
able to participate in snowmobile-based herding. Faced with the cash
squeeze brought by the purchase and upkeep of the machines, many
families were forced to sell their stock and eventually dropped out of
the business altogether.

As Pelto observes, there emerged groups of clearly recognizable
“winners” and “losers” in this process. Some were better able than
others to adopt the new techniques, master the skills necessary to suc-
ceed in a money economy, and build a strong position in a new set of
social relations. Those steeped in the old ways of knowledge and prac-
tice suffered the embarassment of being “unemployed,” a role pre-
viously unheard of in the traditional culture, or of swallowing the
herdsman’s pride and becoming wage laborers. The development of a
more complex system of socioeconomic differentiation was accom-
panied by the rise of ‘‘needs’’ associated with a more modern style of
life—washing machines, household gas, telephones, and chain saws. How
successfully a Skolt adapted to the snowmobile determined, by and
large, his access to these goods. Hence, what had previously been a
highly egalitarian society became inegalitarian and hierarchical almost
overnight.

From one point of view the Skolts knew exactly what they were
doing. They adopted the Bombardier ‘“Ski-Doo” to make herding
faster and more efficient. From another point of view, however, they
never knew what hit them. The changes they saw taking place in long-
established patterns of life just ‘happened’ as the community made a
place for this new instrument of production. Pelto’s account ack-
nowledges both deterministic and voluntaristic aspects of the develop-
ments he observed. “The evidence is strong,” he writes, ‘‘that the intro-
duction of a new technological device in a socioeconomic system has
produced very extensive direct and indirect modifications of work
patterns, household maintenance systems, and other aspects of adaptive

Autonomous Technology 88

behavior. At the same time we are confronted with the inescapable im-
portance of individual differences (in both physical and psychological
characteristics) as factors affecting the adaptive strategies that are
played out in the ongoing social action.’ 16 Pelto finds that neither the
model of “‘techno-economic determinism” nor that of “cultural causa-
tion” is adequate to explain changes of the kind the Skolts experienced.
But his judiciousness here does not lead him to take a step for which
others who study technological change often yearn—the secure retreat
to a purely voluntarist conception. Strongly suggested in his study is
the crucial difference between choices, properly considered, and adap-
tive responses to the conditions brought by a new order.

In short, without falling prey to the tortured dilemmas of the idea
of causation or the mistaken quest for a materialist science of history,
one can reconstruct a reasonable notion of what the determinist view
wants to say. Glorious exhortations in contemporary writing—‘“‘Tech-
nological man will be his own master,” 107 “Technological man will be
man in control of his own development within the context of a mean-
ingful philosophy of the role of technology in human evolution.” 108
are unmasked as mere phantoms of the imagination. As Marx counsels,
human beings do make their world, but they are also made by it.

Technological Drift: Uncertainty and Unintention
The picture of technological change that begins to emerge from our
discussion is not that of a law-bounded process grinding to an inevi-
table conclusion. It is rather that of a variety of currents of innovation
moving in a number of directions toward highly uncertain destinations.
In what has become a standard reformulation of the problem, Robert
Heilbroner concludes, ‘‘Technological determinism is... peculiarly a
problem of a certain historic epoch—in which forces of technical change
have been unleashed, but when the agencies for the control or guidance
of technology are still rudimentary.” 109 Perhaps the appropriate label
for this state of affairs is not determinism at all but, instead, technologi-
cal drift.

In a widely diverse collection of contemporary writings, the story is

Engines of Change 89

told in the following way. A multiplicity of technologies, developed
and applied under a very narrow range of considerations, act and inter-
act in countless ways beyond the anticipations of any person or institu-
tion. Except in cases of extreme danger or disaster, there are almost no
existing means for controlling or regulating the products of this chain
of events. People still retain their logical postition as users and control-
lers of technology. But in the broader context which transcends both
“use” and “control,” this logic is of little consolation. As the speed and
extent of technological innovation increase, societies face the distinct
possibility of going adrift in a vast sea of “unintended consequences.”

This litany of determinism via indeterminism, necessity through aim-
less drift, has some important implications for contemporary political
thought. If one compares the notions of pluralist politics to our ideas of
technology-linked change, one finds an interesting disjunction. In the
American model of pluralism founded by Madison and perfected in our
time by David Truman, Robert Dahl, and others, the life of the polity
rests in the many interest groups that serve as guardians of the welfare
of their constituencies. The theory is based on the idea that individuals
perceive their own interests, organize around concerns that affect their
well-being, voice their desires through these organizations, and battle
other similarly organized interests for scarce resources. Certain aspects
of theories of technological change articulated in recent years fly di-
rectly in the face of this model. Social scientists have become aware of
the fact that many of the changes that affect people are truly “‘unantici-
pated” or ‘unforeseen.” Very often these technology-associated
alterations take place with remarkable speed and are, in some cases,
‘frreversible.” What this means is that possible interest groups which
could form around an issue concerning the effects of technological
change will in many cases simply come too late. The effects will have
already taken hold. The business of voicing one’s interest at this point
can have little significance other than as a plea for redistribution of
benefits or for reparations on the injuries suffered. A new class of
“losers” is born into the political system. 110

Illustrations of how this occurs can be found in the recent outcries

Autonomous Technology 90

about air, water, and noise pollution or the loss of privacy brought by
the spread of sophisticated information technology. In cases of this
sort, a person or group often does not know that his interests are in
jeopardy until the harvest has been reaped. In a world of rapid techno-
logical change, there may well arise a new mode of politics to stand
with such time-honored democratic practices as pork barrel and log
rolling— namely, “barndoor closure,” referring to the normal course of
action after the horses have departed. Aware of this predicament and of
the problems it poses for pluralist theory. and practice, political scien-
tists have begun to work out anew compromise. Their prescription for
the politics of technological drift combines the resources of an im-
proved social science and a resuscitated pluralism. Very briefly, the
signs pointing to an eventual cure are these: empiricism plus renewed
diligence.

The empiricist phase of the solution would strive to obtain that
which we now lack: adequate knowledge of the ways in which tech-
nology acts to change the human environment. Programs of research
would be established to study the various ‘impacts’? of new technolo-
gies and to provide citizens and policy makers with advance informa-
tion “intelligence” concerning possible alternative futures. With this
information at its disposal, the society would, presumably, be better
able to steer a wise course, bringing the ‘‘externalities” and ‘“‘side
effects” under conscious control.

The second aspect of the plan would seek to mobilize latent con-
stituencies in the populace by informing them of their real but unreal-
ized interests in impending technological changes. A report written by
students of technology, including Harvey Brooks, Melvin Kranzberg,
Herbert Simon, Gerard Piel, and Louis H. Mayo, urged that govern-
ment agencies seek to encourage ‘‘a wide diffusion of deeper under-
standing about technology and deeper concern about its implications”
and that they try ‘‘to induce as many different elements of society as
possible to involve themselves in broadened [technology] assessment
efforts.”!11 The report noted that “the habitual tendency to presume
technological trends harmless until proven otherwise can be explained

Engines of Change 91

by the absence of any group or institution whose function it is to
marshal the strongest possible case against a particular trend.”?!12 New
constituencies, therefore, should be created to take care of this unfor-
tunate lack. ;

One cannot help but admire the ever-recurrent ability of liberal
thought to perform marvelous patch jobs to remedy its own flaws. Yes,
the engine of change is running amok. But with more data, new studies,
more funding, a renewed awareness, an alarm clock under the pillow,
and a few minor adjustments here and there on the Madisonian mecha-
nism, we can return to normal. The consumer movement, ecology
action groups, and technology ‘‘assessors” are agreed that this is the
proper course.

For reasons discussed earlier, however, I am not persuaded that the
deficiencies in the program can be taken care of through increased
doses of research data or empirical theory. The fact that the discussion
now wavers erratically between analyses of causal impact and enthusias-
tic affirmations of free will is an indication that there is something de-
fective in our view of things, particularly in our notions of “choice”
and “control.” The problem of ‘‘unintended consequences,” an idea
that now threatens to become doctrine, deserves further consideration.
What are the characteristics of these consequences and also of the inten-
tions that, we suppose, precede them?

If one examines what are now talked about as “unintended conse-
quences” of technological innovation, one finds that they can be
grouped according to the manner of the effects and the medium in
which they occur. Much of the discussion centers on truly causal results
in purely physical systems. Attention is given to the unanticipated ef-
fects of pesticides and herbicides in the biosphere, the unforeseen side
effects of drugs and food additives on the human body, and a wide
variety of similar maladies involving the long-range effects of fertilizers,
detergents, heat pollution, particles of air-carried asbestos, and the like,
many of which have come as a genuine surprise to the society. Effects
of a strictly causal sort may be either simple or complex. In other
words, the ‘‘consequence” at hand may have occurred through an

Autonomous Technology 92

uncomplicated, one-directional process which is relatively easy to trace.
A particular chemical—DDT, mercury, or some other—is dumped into
a brook and eventually harms wildlife downstream. Other sorts of ef-
fects, however, come as the result of complex, cumulative processes
that are more difficult to observe or pin down. One role of the environ-
mental movement, insofar as it is anything more than a revived anti-
litter campaign, has been to advertise the biological disasters, real or
potential, that arise from the complex, cumulative results of techno-
logical practices.

By way of contrast, there are many kinds of interesting “unintended
consequences” that have their effect on individual human beings or
within social systems. In cases of this sort it sometimes makes sense to
use the ideas of simple or complex causation to describe the changes at
hand. We often speak of automation causing unemployment, the intro-
duction of the automobile causing changes in the living patterns of the
American family, and so forth. In many instances the ultimate effects
we notice were not in any real sense chosen either in the original inno-
vation or in the course of subsequent “use.” It is important to note,
however, that the language of causation cannot be used exclusively
here. Many of the most interesting “unintended’’ effects are those
involving the desires and choices of conscious human beings. Here we
are entitled to employ, or indeed must employ, the concepts of inten-
tionality, use, and moral consequence. A new technology, particularly
a new technique or apparatus, opens a wide range of practical possibili-
ties. It is ambiguous as to use (which, of course, includes misuse). In
many cases the directions of its social application are not known in
advance. Modern history is filled with examples of inventions whose
practical implications were not know to the inventor. Pascal, Leibniz,
and Babbage had no inkling of the future uses of their calculating
machines. Poulsen could not have foreseen the range of utility of his
magnetic tape recorder. Philo T. Farnsworth had only the most limited
sense of the social meaning of his television tube at the time of its de-
velopment. The early days of each new technology are filled with a
sense of pregnant possibilities, along with a profound uncertainty about

Engines of Change 93

the eventual outcome. And there is a sense in which we can say that a
technical novelty has a life of its own as it finds its way into the com-
plex sphere of social practice.

To read the current literature on ecology or the social impact of
technological innovation, one might suppose that uncertainty, unpre-
dictability, and uncontrollability of the consequences of action are
situations entirely unique to the present age. The prevailing opinion
appears to be that in simpler times, in times that moved more slowly
along less complicated paths, such concerns were unknown. But if one
turns to the history of Western political thought, one discovers that
these same conditions have been known and commented upon since the
beginning. Philosophers have identified uncertainty, unpredictability,
and uncontrollability as characteristic of all action—factors that politi-
cal meri must take into account before they intervene in the affairs of
the world. An actor does not and in fact cannot know the full range
of consequences of his deeds in advance. In one of the earliest pieces
of political writing available to us, a poem by Solon of Athens, we find

the warning:

Danger, for all, lies in all action, and there is no
telling which way the end will be after a thing
is begun.

One may be trying to do well and, through failure of
foresight may fall into the curse of great disas-
ter, while one

who acts badly may find God gives him all that he
asked for... 113

Sentiments of this sort are neither rare nor of small importance.
They have recurred frequently in the history of Western thought, and
the doctrine of “unintended consequences” is merely their most recent
version. Taken together, ideas of this sort amount to a countertradition
to the dream of mastery. In this tradition, the world is not something
that can be manipulated or managed with any great assurance. The urge
to control must inevitably meet with frustration or defeat. The more
extreme statements of this kind maintain that the universe is ultimately

Autonomous Technology 94

governed by chance, chaos, fate, fortune, or some other principle that
through its workings makes all of human effort an exercise in prideful
futility. In Heraclitus and Empedocles, for example, the world is one
in which strife constantly disrupts and overturns the works of mortals.
According to Heraclitus, ‘‘Fire will come and lay hold to all things.”
“The fairest order is but a heap of garbage eniptied out at random.” In
the thought of Epictetus and the other Stoic philosophers we discover
that all action must be informed by an awareness of the fact that there
are many things in the world simply beyond our power to control.
Other than what he may decide to do with his own soul, each man has
little mastery over his fate. In Machiavelli the evanescence of worldly
circumstances is announced in the opposition of fortuna and virtua.
Fortuna is like ‘fan impetuous river that when turbulent, inundates the
plains, casts down trees and buildings, removes earth from this side and
places it on the other; every one flees before it, and everything yields
to its fury without being able to oppose it.” 114 While Machiavelli be-
lieved that the virté of a bold and intelligent actor could direct the for-
ces unleashed by fortuna to his own purposes, his model of action is
distinctly non-Baconian. The world is not one of predictable regularities
and passive variables subject to simple control; it is ultimately one of
extreme caprice in which an actor must employ the most subtle of
intuitions and artful measures to keep from being swept under. Even
then he can never be certain.

The condition that lies at the root of such uncertainty, unpredicta-
bility, and uncontrollability in the circumstances of action is the com-
plex interconnectedness of the world. Again, the contemporary litera-
ture implies that this situation is a revolutionary discovery by ecologists
and technological systems analysts. In point of fact, this insight has
long been fundamental to the antimastery tradition in Western philoso-
phy. Marcus Aurelius saw the situation clearly enough to observe, ‘All
things are implicated with one another, and the bond is holy; and there
is hardly anything unconnected with another thing.” 115 The state of
interconnectedness in both nature and human society has long been
appreciated as the primary source of risk in action of all sorts, for a

Engines of Change 95

disturbance of the complex web of relationships begins a process over
which the actor has only limited control. In Search for a Method,
Jean-Paul Sartre observes that ‘‘the consequences of our acts always end
up by escaping us, since every concerted enterprise, as soon as it is
realized, enters into relations with the entire universe, and since this
infinite multiplicity of relations goes beyond our intention.” !!6

An interesting recent analysis of this state of affairs, particularly as
it pertains to modern science and technology, is contained in the writ-
ings of Hannah Arendt. “Action,” she points out, “no matter what its
specific content, always establishes relationships and therefore has an
inherent tendency to force open all limitations and cut across all

boundaries.” !17

“To do and to suffer are like opposites of the same
coin, and the story that an act starts is composed of its consequent
deeds and sufferings. These consequences are boundless, because action,
though it may proceed from nowhere, so to speak, acts into a medium
where every reaction becomes a chain reaction and where every process
is the cause of new processes.” !18 To some extent, individuals are able
to set limitations which protect them from the condition of boundless-
ness. But they cannot manage the second important characteristic of
action: “‘its lack of adequate foresight, but also that the meaning of the
deed and its consequences can only be clear when the chain reaction
which springs from it is complete.”

For reasons not relevant to the present discussion, Arendt holds that
political action has, by and large, vanished in the modern age. However,
there is one variety of action—the works of science—that stil] remains.
“The capacity for action, at least in the sense of the releasing of proc-
esses is still with us, although it has become the exclusive prerogative of
the scientists, who have enlarged the realm of human affairs to the
point of extinguishing the time-honored protective dividing line be-
tween nature and the human world.”!!19 By “the releasing of proc-
esses’”’ Arendt means the starting of chain reactions ““whose outcome
remains uncertain and unpredictable whether they are let loose in the
human or the natural realm.”!20 The true actors of our time are the
scientists, even though they act indirectly with regard to society and

Autonomous Technology 96

politics and have no knowledge of the political tradition which could
help them understand the meaning and limitations of their deeds.

The uncertainty and uncontrollability of the outcomes of action
stand as a major problem for all technological planning. If one does not
know the full range of results that can spring from an innovation, then
the idea of technical rationality—the accommodation of means to ends
—becomes entirely problematic. The means are much more productive
than our limited intentions for them require. They accomplish results
that were neither anticipated nor chosen and accomplish them just as
surely as if they had been deliberate goals. Nietzsche recognized this
situation as a fundamental weakness in the philosophy that guided the
scientific and industrial development of his time, utilitarianism. “The
value of an action must be judged by its consequences—say the Utili-
tarians—; to judge it by its origins implies an impossibility, namely that
of knowing its origins.” “But does one know its consequences? For five
steps ahead, perhaps. Who can say what an action will stimulate, excite,
provoke? As a stimulus? Perhaps as a spark to touch off an explosion?
_—The Utilitarians are naive—And in any case we must first know what
is useful: here too they look only five steps ahead—They have no con-
ception of the grand economy, which cannot do without evil.” 121
Few would want to agree with Nietzsche’s view that attention to the
consequences is a total absurdity. At the same time, it is clear that the
apparent rationality of our plans, designs, and calculations often col-
lapses in the broader set of relationships and events. A most notorious
example is the present environment of the American city, which is
much like a colossal sociological truck farm in which one rational plan
and technological innovation after another has borne unexpected and
unwanted fruit. Under the label of “systems approach” many social
scientists have now begun to recognize the “grand economy,” which,
as Nietzsche pointed out, ‘‘cannot do without evil.”

The condition noted by the antimastery tradition is one which pre-
sumably cannot be overcome. In this way of looking at things, there
will always be some consequences of any human intervention in the
world that cannot be anticipated or controlled. “‘The reason why we are

Engines of Change 97

never able to foretell with certainty the outcome and end of any ac-
tion,” Arendt observes, “‘is simply that action has no end. The process
of a single deed can quite literally endure throughout time until man-
kind itself has come to an end.’ !22 It is clear, nonetheless, that many
of the occurrences and conditions we now speak of as ‘‘unintended con-

’

sequences” of technological innovation—pollution, drug abuse, unem-
ployment, the congestion of the cities, the generation gap, megalopolis,
and various other ills in nature and society—are often things that could
very well have been foreseen and avoided. The world is not so complex
and fast moving that, for example, the rising decibel count in urban
areas could not have been anticipated and limited before it became a
hazard to health. But in most cases of this sort, we find ourselves both
surprised and impotent—victims of technological drift.123

Along with those effects, then, which are absolutely unforeseen and
uncontrollable are those which are susceptible to foresight and control
but are never limited by either one. To see why they occur in this man-
ner we should consider two more peculiarities of the “unintended con-
sequences” that have popped up in the recent discussion: (1) that they
are almost always negative or undesirable effects and (2) that unin-
tended consequences are not not intended.

In the main, we are not particularly interested in those side effects
of technological innovation that do not injure, disrupt, jeopardize, or
destroy. Positive side effects, everyone understands, will take care of
themselves and require no special attention. The aura of negativity that
surrounds the present discussion does not mean that there are no unan-
ticipated effects of a beneficial sort, but merely that in speaking of ‘‘un-
intended consequences” we wish to refer to something undesirable.

Unintended consequences are not not intended. This means that
there is seldom anything in the original plan that aimed at preventing
them. Until recently, the idea that any precautions should be taken
when a new technology entered social practice was virtually unheard of.

Taken together these notions point us toward a fact that has been a
part of the tacit knowledge and most basic commitment of Western
society for the last two hundred years. Although it is seldom stated

Autonomous Technology 98

explicitly, we have now seen enough to put it into words: technology
is most productive when its ultimate range of results is neither foreseen
nor controlled. To put it differently, technology always does more than
we intend; we know this so well that it has actually become part of our
intentions. Positive side effects are in fact a latent expectation or desire
implicit in any plan for innovation. Negative side effects, similarly, are
experienced as necessary evils that we are obligated to endure. Each
intention, therefore, contains a concealed “‘unintention,”’ which is just
as much a part of our calculations as the immediate end in view.

Imagine a world in which technologies accomplish only the speci-
fic purposes one had in mind in advance and nothing more. It would
be a radically constricted world and one totally unlike the world we
now inhabit. The simple logic of means and ends, tools and use, is ulti-
mately of little help in understanding what technology has to do with
change. It is like noticing B follows A while forgetting the other
twenty-four letters and their myriad of combinations in words and sen-
tences. Technology, in its various manifestations, affects the world by
enlarging the scope and power of human activity in general as well as
in the specifics. Each new variety of apparatus, technique, or organiza-
tion expands the sphere of human possibilities to a degree which, in the
nature of things, remains uncertain. The laboratory in which the con-
sequences of innovation are probed and analyzed can only be that of
history itself.

Our most basic cultural understanding about what technology is and
what it does recognizes the state of affairs I am describing. It can be
seen, for example, in the fact that utilitarian calculations have never
been able to stand by themselves but have always been propped up by
embarrassingly foggy notions of “progress.” Industrializers and modern-
izers understood Nietzsche’s critique of utilitarianism long before he
made it: the consequences cannot be foreseen. All the better, for it is
a mistake even to worry about them. To insist that the development of
technology be restrained by the desire for rationality or final control is
a retrogressive attitude. This was precisely the error of the utopians and

Engines of Change 99

the reason why they are now commonly thought to be the fools of his-
tory. The utopians wished to know the outcomes in advance. They
wanted to manage the development through enlightened, rational plan-
ning. What folly! Utopia would be the death of progress. It is not the
ticket that scientific technology gives to civilization. Technological de-
velopment opens doors to a new world, the final shapes of which are
unknown. Thus, to have asked in advance what the computer would
mean for civilized life or to plan and control precisely the changes it
would bring would have been totally antithetical to the way we nor-
mally proceed. Those who work on the computing capacity of the ma-
chines are seldom interested in the full range of possible applications.
Those who tend specific applications have only minimal knowledge of
the social effects such applications may bring. In effect, we are commit-
ted to following a drift—accumulated unanticipated consequences--
given the name progress. If the term determinism still applies to this
pattern of change, it is, paradoxically, a voluntary determinism, one
which serves us as long as we avoid demanding to know the out-
comes too early.

To this day, any suggestion that the forward flow of technological
innovation be in any way limited by an idea of rational or humane
planning is certain to evoke a harsh response. Such proposals violate
a fundamental taboo. Even the writings critical of the side effects of
technological change must observe the underlying commitment without
question. The writers of a National Academy of Sciences technology
assessment report repeatedly insist that “our purpose is not to conceive
ways to curb or restrain or otherwise ‘fix’ technology”!23 and that
“the advances of technology have yielded and still yield benefits that,
on the whole, vastly outweigh all the injuries they have caused and con-
tinue to cause.”!25 Expressions of this sort have become a kind of
ritual oath, which anyone the least bit critical of technological affairs
must administer to oneself before going any further. In the words of
one of our more bald-faced proponents of accelerated technological
change: “‘There is no such thing as retrogressing ‘a little.’ There is no

Autonomous Technology 100

such thing as a ‘restrained progress.’ You are hearing many voices today
that object to an ‘unrestricted technology.’ A restricted technology is a
contradiction in terms.” !26

A model of prudence in innovation was outlined in the eighteenth
century, albeit in a nontechnological setting, by Jean Jacques Rousseau.
It advised sensitivity to the subtle changes that any innovation engen-
ders in social institutions and public morality. But this model is not
something the modern age has taken seriously. Instead we accept the
role of experimental subjects in a process of minimally controlled
change, later looking back upon what we have done to ourselves as a
topic of curiosity. Thus, after almost thirty years during which the lives
of children have been influenced by watching television, the question,
What are the effects of television upon children? is suddenly posed as a
legitimate problem for social science. Minerva’s owl flies only after the
late show.

The Technological Imperative

Our discussion so far leaves one crucial theme untouched, for there is a
set of phenomena best described not merely as effects or consequences
but as actual requirements of innovation. Here we encounter one of the
most persistent problems that appears in reports of autonomous tech-
nology: the technological imperative.

The basic conception can be stated as follows: technologies are
structures whose conditions of operation demand the restructuring of
their environments. Again, the point has nothing to do with any occult
force. It is simply a matter of specifying what needs to take place be-
fore an instrument is in working order. W

Operational requirements of this kind may be either purely instru-
mental or economic. !27 Instrumental conditions include those involved
in the establishment and maintenance of the device’s own internal
structure. In most examples now called “advanced,” technologies re-
quire other technologies for their successful functioning. The apparatus ~
is useless without connection to a vast array of technique and organiza-_

makes no sense without sophisticated

Engines of Change 101

which in turn derive their raison d’€tre from the existence of technical
hardware. Thus, 'a chain of reciprocal dependency is established in
which the various aspects of a given technical operation overlap and
require each other.

Economic requirements, although not in every instance easily distin-
guishable from the instrumental conditions, are those which concern
the provision of resources—energy, materials, labor, information, and so
existed before. Things not previously needed for a particular practice
now become necessary resources. Before the invention of techniques of
heart transplanting, there was no scarcity of hearts; one per person was
universally supplied. With the advent of transplants, however, the organ
suddenly became a scarce commodity.

To trace the range of instrumental and economic conditions required
to put a particular modern technology in working order is often a stag-
gering chore. One need only think of the thousands of requirements
that must be met before the automobile can be a functional part of
social life—manufacture, repair, fuel supply, highways, to name just a
few. Economists and organization theorists refer to the formation of
complex webs of this sort as ‘‘vertical integration,” a state of affairs in
which the output of one operation becomes input for the next.!28 Ellul
labels the same phenomenon ‘‘monism” and ‘‘the necessary linking to-
gether of techniques.” 129

The technological imperative contains a logic that accounts for much
of the way change occurs in modern society. The logic is not that of
syllogistic inference. Rather, it is the pragmatic rationale of necessary
action. If you desire X and if you have chosen the appropriate means to
X, then you must supply all of the conditions for the means to operate.
To put it differently, one must provide not only the means but also the
entire set of means to the means. A failure to follow the correct line of
reasoning in formal logic brings an unhappy outcome: absurd conclu-
sions. Failure to follow the dictates of the technological imperative has
an equally severe outcome: a device produces no results (or the wrong
ones). For this reason, once the original choice has been made, the

Autonomous Technology 102

action must continue until the whole system of means has reached its
proper alignment.

The force of technological imperatives is reinforced by their connec-
tion to what are perceived as the necessities of life. Certain technical
means stand at the very basis of human survival. Failure to provide for
them is to invite discomfort, suffering, or even death. For this reason
the technological imperative is much more than a functional require-
ment. It is also a moral standard, a way of distinguishing the good from
the bad, the rational from the irrational, the sane from the insane. It
tells us what is necessary for our continued existence and happiness.
Any attempt to deny this necessity can only be an expression of malice,
stupidity, or madness. If we have chosen to utilize electrical apparatus
in many of the basic activities of life, then we absolutely must have all
the means necessary for the supply of electricity. We must build as
many power plants as are necessary to take care of the need. There are
some things we cannot do without.

In technological innovation, therefore, the possibilities widen, but
so do the demands. This fact is crucial to the processes of historical
change that we identify as industrialization and modernization. David
Landes describes the working out of the logic in his description of the

industrial revolution:

The invention and diffusion of machinery in the textile manufacture
and other industries created a new demand for energy, hence for coal
and steam engines; and these engines, and the machines themselves, had
a voracious appetite for iron, which called for further coal and power.
Steam also made possible the factory city, which used unheard-of quan-
tities of iron (hence coal) in its many-storied mills and its water and
sewage systems.... And all of these products—iron, textiles, chemi-
cals—depended on large-scale movements of goods on land and on sea,
from the seurces of the raw materials into the factories and out again
to near aid distant markets. The opportunity thus created and the
possibilities of the new technology combined to produce the railroad
and the steamship, which of course added to the demand for iron and
fuel while expanding the market for factory products. And so on, in
ever widening circles. 130

Engines of Change 103

This expanding array of technical requirements and economic de-
mands is the basis of one important aspect of technological dynamism.
As Landes points out, change is actually a “‘logical corollary” of tech-
nical rationality, ‘for the appropriation of means to ends that is the
essence of rationality implies a process of continuous adaptation.” 31
Speaking of the ‘“‘cumulative, self-sustaining advance” of the industrial
revolution he concludes, ‘In all the diversity of technological improve-
ment, the unity of the movement is apparent: change begat
change.” 132

But it would be wrong to conclude that the scope of adaptation is
limited solely to instrumental or economic modifications. As the litera-
ture of modernization makes clear, the process of change that accom-
panies technological innovation touches ‘every dimension of
society.” 153 All varieties of customs, habits, attitudes, ideas, and social
and political institutions are caught up in its flow, altered, and set on
a new foundation. Nothing is left untouched. W. W. Rostow’s discus-
sion of “The Underlying Process of Modernization” gives a sense of the
broad sweep, practical necessity, and moral urgency involved in these
adjustments: ‘Psychologically, men must transform or adapt the old
culture in ways which make it compatible with modern activities and
institutions. The face-to-face relations and warm, powerful family ties
of a traditional society must give way, in degree, to new, more imper-
sonal systems of evaluation in which men are judged by the way they
perform specialized functions in the society. In their links to the na-
tion, to their professional colleagues, to their political parties, to their
labor unions, men must find a partial alternative for the family, clan,
and region. And new hierarchies, based on function, must come to
replace those rooted in land ownership and tradition [emphasis
added]. 134

A perspective which looks at the way technological change generates
imperatives for society is useful in explaining aspects of modern
development which an analysis of the “unintended consequences” of
technical action may overlook. One of its advantages is that it

Autonomous Technology 104

recognizes how a process of adaptation can and frequently does precede
the technological innovations requiring that adaptation. We speak of re-
quirements that are met beforehand as ‘‘meeting the preconditions.”
The environment is modified to make room for the thing or things
demanding that modification; in a certain sense the effects antedate the
cause. Most of the nations that are now called ‘‘underdeveloped’’ or
“modernizing” (teleology anyone?) do in fact proceed in this manner.
Their path is that of emulation in which already modernized nations are
studied to discover the conditions necessary to build a stable techno-
logical order.!35 Then the ‘“‘preconditions’”’ are put into effect. For
Rostow and many other students of modernization, this means that
whole cultures must be literally ripped apart and reassembled before
the “take-off”? of the great airship ‘“‘modernity” can begin. Except on
the very earliest flights, tickets must be purchased in advance.

I do not wish to leave the impression that the logic of such impera-
tives is something entirely unique to technological affairs. In a broader
sense, what is involved here is a very general problem that accompanies
any significant life choice of any kind, for one’s decision implies a com-
mitment to support the decision; the initial act requires a sequence of
actions to sustain what has been done. Anyone who has ever had a child
knows this logic full well. Having a technology is very much like having
a child except that its conditions are even more routinized and ex-
tensive.

In this interpretation, the notion of a technological imperative recog-
nizes a particular state of affairs. It suggests that the very construction
of technological systems contains an inherent tendency to establish a
complex set of linkages that continues beyond one’s original anticipa-
tion and that carries a powerful force of social obligation. Under a tech-
nological imperative one does not always know in advance the require-
ments that a new technology carries with it. Even the most clear-sighted
choices may be blind ones. A society is literally forced along paths,
compelled to make enormous investments, that it did not select and

might have sought to avoid.

Engines of Change 105

John Kenneth Galbraith’s The New Industrial State is one of a num-
ber of recent writings that conclude that a society propelled by impera-
tives of technology is increasingly closed, inertial, inflexible, and iso-
lated from any true conception of human needs. Galbraith argues that
operations of the modern industrial system necessarily require speciali-
zation, complex organization, an increasing span of time between the
beginning c of a task and its « completion, increased capital, commitment, _
and d planning, 186 The rest of his book grapples with the fact that as a -
result of these requirements, the industrial system becomes increasingly
unresponsive to any ends other than its own survival and growth. Ellul,
of course, describes the situation in even more radical terms. ‘“Tech-
nique,” he writes, ‘‘cannot be otherwise than totalitarian. It can be
truly efficient and scientific only if it absorbs an enormous number of
phenomena and brings into play the maximum of data. In order to co-

ordinate and exploit synthetically, technique must be brought to bear
9137

on the great masses in every area.

Later I will perform a more thorough dissection of specific forms
that the technological imperative takes. The issue will be recast as a
central concern of a general conception of the politics of technology.
We drop it now, not because it is of minor importance but because it
involves questions too large for the present context.

In each of the instances in this chapter I have described ways in
which technological change may be said with some justification to be
“out of control.” Each case combines an objective state of affairs—an
actual process in the world—with a predisposition of men in society to
allow the changes to continue with little intervention. Together, the
process and the disposition create what can be called technological

dynamism, saan ts Movement in history which continues Jargely _
without conscious uman guidance. This is not to say say that changes i in

technology and society are never chosen, directed, or controlled. The
reader may wish to send me a list of changes that are truly voluntary,
and I will gladly respond with a list in agreement. The point is that
there are important categories of change that simply do not make sense

Autonomous Technology 106

under the ideas of “chosen” or “voluntary.” Again, the circumstance
that makes this interesting is that technologies and the results they pro-
duce are exactly the kinds of things that we expect to be able to choose

and control.

Chapter 3
The Flaw and Its Origins

There is no obvious path to follow to the belief that technological
dynamism is an important problem in the modern world. Experiences
of many sorts, analyses of various kinds lend plausibility to the idea. In
typical cases an observer focuses upon a particular set of historical alter-
ations—in work, the environment, social institutions, or some other
sphere—that is in some way disturbing and then considers how the
situation might have been different. More often than not the answer in-
volves the need for controls on a local, national, or international level
far beyond anything even remotely feasible. A common response to this
insight is despair or blind rage at the spectacle of personal and political
powerlessness. It is this despair for which the numbing salves of the idea
of progress (which made it something of a virtue to endure congested
cities and pollution) were once, but are no longer, the perfect cure.

We have already noted some obvious channels open to those able to
avoid paralysis and resignation. One can assume the role of a firefighter,
select one or more of the areas of life in which technological change
looms as a problem, and set one’s goals to improve things in that
sphere. There remains the opportunity to mount campaigns to modify
or block the planning of ill-considered urban highways, to regulate
the manufacture and distribution of dangerous insecticides, or to alert
the populace to the dangers of propellants in aerosol cans. A new breed
of public-interest scientists, engineers, lawyers, and white-collar activists
now pursues this demanding vocation. One can only wish them well.

But a therapy that treats only the symptoms leaves the roots of the
problem untouched. Intuitively, at least, we understand that the various
separate issues that concern us here may have common origins deep in
the history of human culture. Roughly the same tendencies that pro-
duce the chaotic living conditions of megalopolis are those that create
hundreds of superfluous consumer innovations like digital clocks and
Teflon-coated razor blades. Roughly the same motives and outlook that
encourage greater and greater industrial productivity, rapidly expanding
investment in research and development projects, and an unprecedented
rate of innovation in all spheres of life are also those mirrored in the
“need” for a new manned bomber, the eutrophication of lakes, and the

Autonomous Technology 108

willingness to ‘‘solve”’ serious social problems with a tech-fix. If we are
to understand the dispositional element in technological dynamism, it
appears that we must go beyond cataloging symptoms to a level of
awareness and therapy provided by depth analysis.

A major concern in philosophical writing on technology and culture
is to offer diagnoses of exactly this kind. The twentieth century has
produced a great body of theory which searches earnestly for deep
metaphysical roots, historical origins, and elements of essential unity in
the diverse phenomena that characterize technological society. In the
pages that follow I will consider some paths which attempts at deep
critique have taken, in particular those routes which approach the ques-
tion of an unlimited, excessive growth of technology. What claims do
theories of this sort attempt to make? How well founded are the hy-
potheses that come from such inquiries? Most important, does one
learn anything from deep-seeking analyses that might be helpful in re-
orienting action in the technological sphere?

Nature and Western Civilization

Perhaps the most common variety of hypothesis iri the speculative
literature places blame for the excesses of technological civilization on
a flaw in the nature of man. Aggressiveness, acquisitiveness, restless
desire for conquest and power, or some other allegedly central trait is
cited as the root of problems in the modern condition. In many
formulations the qualifier “‘Western’’ is added to the general category
“man” to allow for the obvious fact that recent advances in science and
scientific technics have been, by and large, distinctly European and
North American projects. This qualification is of no small importance
in such arguments, and I shall return to it in a moment.

Statements of the flaw-in-the-human-character thesis can be found at
many points in the writing of Lewis Mumford. Long an opponent of
the idea that oppressive, large-scale technologies are the exclusive inven-
tion of modern times, Mumford finds the source of the technological
dilemma in an indelible affliction in motives which has disrupted West-
ern culture since the Egyptians. Man has a choice between authoritarian

The Flaw and Its Origins 109

megatechnics (large-scale systems) and democratic polytechnics (small-
scale systems, arts and crafts). The megatechnical obsession seeks to
bring everything under control and thereby places all of nature and so-
ciety in peril. The polytechnical tradition, on the other hand, is in-
herently moderate. Small-scale tools are used in carefully conceived
ways with a minimum of unanticipated side effects. A choice for mega-
technics over polytechnics is for Mumford basically that of evil over
good. The roots of our present situation are to be found in the pride-
ful, ignorant, power-hungry technical mentality reintroduced to the
modern age by Francis Bacon. “It was not technological insight and

”

adroitness,”” Mumford observes, ‘‘but cupidity, power-hunger, over-

weening pride, and indifference to the future that kept Western peoples
from maintaining their own craft traditions and tool-using habits.””2

Mumford believes that avariciousness and power mania in human
beings continually threaten to assume dominance. The human essence
is not defined by this trait alone, however. He argues that man is a
multifaceted, self-transforming combination of an original biological
nature and a ‘‘second nature’ created over thousands of years.3
Humans have the potential to become, in effect, many different kinds
of creatures. In this respect Mumford finds a lethal link between the
attitude modern man takes toward himself and the flaw that is buried
deep in his original nature. The modern self-image rests on an insidious
myth that man is essentially a tool-making animal. Wedded to the tre-
mendous power of modern invention and discovery, this myth en-
courages an unrestrained growth of megatechnical monstrosities. Men
who believe that their nature is expressed in technological projects can
find no sense in the idea that unlimited technical development might
lead to excess and aberration. Against the view that humans are essen-
tially tool-making, tool-using creatures, Mumford marshals a mass of
evidence from anthropology and history leavened by his own opti-
mistic interpretation. Homo sapiens, he argues, precedes homo faber.
Man the mind-maker developed his capacities of consciousness, imagi-
nation, and intelligence long before material instruments became
a concern. This is shown, Mumford insists, in the record of ritual,

Autonomous Technology 110

symbolism, and noninstrumental creativity which appears at the very
earliest stages of human culture.*

Barnett Newman, the American abstract expressionist painter, made
a similar point in an extraordinary essay published in 1947. ‘‘What was
the first man, was he a hunter, a tool-maker, a farmer, a worker, a
priest, or a politician?” ‘“‘Undoubtedly,” Newman concludes, “‘the first
man was an artist.”° The crucial turning point in human evolution was
not the use of weapons or tools. ‘“‘Man’s hand traced the stick through
the mud to make a line before he learned to throw the stick as a jave-
lin.’6 Of course animals had always produced lines inadvertently as
they moved through the world. But it was only when one of them drew
a line with a stick, looked down, and saw both itself and the universe
reflected in that mark that the boundary between animal and human
was crossed. ‘‘Man’s first expression, like his first dream, was an aes-
thetic one. Speech was a poetic outcry rather than a demand for com-
munication. Original man, shouting his consonants, did so in yells of
awe and anger at his tragic state, at his own self-awareness and at his
own helplessness before the void.” 7

Affirmations of this kind must remain almost entirely speculative.
Evidence from Olduvai Gorge relics, stone-age cave paintings, and other
such sources is too fragmentary and ambiguous to permit any final
conclusions about man’s earliest activities, much less what they tell us
about “human nature.”®8 As Newman himself points out, paleontology
‘thas entered a realm where the only questions worth discussing are the
questions that cannot be proved.” Thus, Lewis Mumford’s exag-
gerated stress upon man the mind-maker stems only in part from his
scientific interest in the issue. His writings and lectures on the subject
are obviously intended as moral correctives for the one-sided prejudice
that informs twentieth-century views of “technological: man.” If the
combined wisdom of anthropology and the other social sciences tells
us anything, it is that the quest to find a unitary essence or characteris-
tic activity that defines the human being is ultimately futile. What one
discovers in the human population is a multiplicity of traits that are
emphasized or repressed in various cultural settings. Most certainly,

The Flawand Its Origins 111

there is plenty of evidence that man in many times and places has lived
totally without an urge toward unlimited technological action and in-
satiable consumption. Faced with claims that the problems of a tech-
nological age lie ‘deep within us,” that is, within our structure (pre-
sumably our genetic structure) as human beings, it is wise to remain
skeptical. In the end, I am inclined to agree with Hannah Arendt’s
argument that if there is a human essence, it would require a god’s-
eye view to know it.10

One way around the difficulties of a purely naturalistic hypothesis is
to look for origins of technological dynamism in the distinetive charac-
ter of Western civilization. It is the West rather than other cultures of
the world that before recent times took upon itself the vast enterprises
that characterize modern industrial development. ‘“‘Our technology has
absorbed elements from all over the world, notably China,” one student
of the subject points out, ‘“‘yet everywhere today, whether in Japan or
in Nigeria, successful technology is Western.” !1 The primary feature
that appears to distinguish the West in this regard is its commitment to
understand, control, and exploit nature. Scientific intelligence probes
the structures and processes of natural phenomena so that they can be
harnessed to an infinite variety of works devised by technical skill.
This, the argument usually goes, is a very ancient tendency in the cul-
ture, which has been realized by the success of science and scientific
technology over the past three centuries.

But if the impetus to dominate nature is somehow built into our
way of life, the question becomes that of locating specific aspects of
Western civilization that engender this tendency. Are there institutions,
belief systems, or some other permanent aspects of our heritage that
induced Western peoples to take up technological activism?

The most common of existing hypotheses on this theme focus upon
the Christian religious tradition. Max Weber’s Protestant Ethic and The
Spirit of Capitalism set the tone for such discussions and provided the
first significant theory. Contradicting the Marxist notion that social
ideas mirror forces and relations of production, Weber argued that the
capital-building impulses of the bourgeoisie were secularized versions of

Autonomous Technology 112

a distinctly Calvinist response to uncertainty in the face of God’s grace.
While the fact of salvation could never be known, its likelihood could
be demonstrated in worldly virtue, including success in material enter-
prise. Channeled into finance, industry, and the rationalization of a
broad range of productive activities, this feature of Calvinist ideology
played an important part in shaping the social roles of early capi-
talism.12

Weber’s thesis has had an important influence upon scholarly re-
search into the social origins of modern science and technology. But for
some observers, his explanation fails to delve deep enough in its pur-
suit of the source of rationalization and the domination of nature. In
a widely reprinted article, ‘‘The Historical Roots of Our Ecologic
Crisis,” Lynn White, Jr., speculates on the question of why the powers
of scientific technology ‘‘to judge by many of the ecologic effects, are
out of control.”!3 Western ascendance in such matters, he argues, took
shape long before the modern scientific and industrial revolutions. Very
early in medieval Europe, certainly no later than 1000 B. C., important
developments in power machinery and labor-saving devices began to
characterize the West. ‘‘Not in craftsmanship but in basic technological
capacity, the Latin West of the later Middle Ages far outstripped its
elaborate, sophisticated, and aesthetically magnificent sister cultures,
Byzantium and Islam.” 14 Similar progress also occurred in medieval
science. To find the wellspring of such activity, White suggests, one
need look no further than the beliefs of the early Christian church.
Christianity “not only established a dualism of man and nature but also
insisted that it is God’s will that man exploit nature for his proper
ends.” 15 Church theology taught that God had created men as trans-
cendent beings and that nature was provided to them as a garden to be
ruled. At the same time the faith discarded the conviction of pagan
animism that since every flower, tree, and stream had its own guardian
spirit, care must be taken not to disturb a natural object without suf-
ficient reason. Christianity brought with it a much more cavalier, even
ruthless attitude toward the relationship of man and nature. It is the

The Flawand Its Origins 113

secularized form of this attitude, White argues, that shapes the Western
propensity for unlimited technological action today.

Biblical accounts do avoid the pitfalls of explanations which begin
with “human nature.’’ But they have serious shortcomings of their
own. In making his case, White is extremely selective in choosing those
features of Christian belief that he upholds as formative. His account
stresses the importance of the Old Testament story of creation. “Man
named all the animals,’’ White reminds us, ‘‘thus establishing his domi-
nance over them. God planned all of this explicitly for man’s benefit
and rule: no item in the physical creation had any purpose save to serve
man’s purposes.” !6 While White’s article was never intended to be a
complex piece of biblical exegesis, its view stands or falls on the validity
of the idea that at the heart of medieval Christianity stands a doctrine
which encourages man’s mastery and rule over nature. True, Genesis
does say that God directed man and woman to “be fruitful and multi-
ply, and replenish the earth, and subdue it: and have dominion over the
fish of the sea, and over the fowl of the air, and over every living thing
that moveth upon the earth.”!7 But what would happen if other scrip-
tural passages were taken as the touchstone? Christ’s Sermon on the
Mount, to cite only one possible example, tells us: ‘‘Blessed are the
meek: for they shall inherit the earth.” 18 It is not easy to derive an
impulse to dominate nature from that. Indeed there are many elements
of Christianity that enjoin moderation, passivity, and ascetic denial in
approaching the world of material concerns. Many of these elements
were important parts of the teaching of the medieval church.!9 What,
if anything, entitles us to say that Christian theology is the ultimate
ground of the tendency toward unfettered technological activism?

An eloquent critique of White’s theory marks the starting point for
John Passmore’s reflections in Man’s Responsibility for Nature. Pass-
more shares White’s concern for environmental degradation and sets out
to find “what the West has to jettison, and what to retain, if it is to
have any prospect of solving the problems which confront it.”20 He
agrees that much of Christian theology has helped justify the arrogant,

Autonomous Technology 114

aggressive stance of the West toward nature. But he finds no substance
in the view that this malady has its source in what Western culture has
learned from Genesis. Calling upon evidence from both scripture and
biblical history, Passmore concludes that the Hebrews recognized no
fundamental gap between man and nature. Nature was created first
“and God saw that tt was good.” 21 Indeed, when man was created he
was given dominion over the earth and its creatures. But, Passmore
points out, the Old Testament “is uncompromisingly theocentric: na-
ture, on its view, exists not for man’s sake but for the greater glory of
God.” 22 It is a mistake, therefore, to trace the arrogance of Christian
theology toward nature back to the beliefs of the Hebrews. Passmore
goes on to argue that its true source is none other than Greek philoso-
phy as it influenced Christian ideas. Aristotle’s Politics expresses the
idea that animals were created for the use of men. The Stoics later
carried this view ‘“‘to extraordinary lengths,” seeing in the fact of
human rationality a clear warrant for man’s mastery over all lesser
beings. By its very design, nature had been created to serve human
needs. This doctrine of the Greek and Roman Stoics was embraced by
Christian thinkers, most notably Origen in the third century A. D. As
Passmore points out, however, the Stoic notion by itself leads to quie-
tism. “It is only when it is coupled with a Pelagian, humanistic, attitude
to man, which sees him not as essentially corrupt but as having the duty
to create, by his own efforts, a second nature—identified, in the Chris-
tian West, with a second Garden of Eden—that it can either provoke or
be used to justify a scientific-technological revolution.’’23

Passmore’s treatment of the flaw in Christian theology represents an
improvement over the simplicity of White’s account. He is aware that
there are many subtleties of doctrine to be taken into account, that the
faith does not speak with one voice on the matter, and that one figure
of some importance, Jesus of Nazareth, seems to have had no truck
whatsoever with the idea of man as despot. Nevertheless, other than
proving that even the ecologist can quote scripture, Passmore’s efforts
to achieve a decisive resolution are unsatisfactory. The reason is that
one is never completely clear about what is being asserted. This is a

The Flaw and Its Origins 115

problem endemic to writings on the domination of nature, not merely
those which focus on religious origins, for whether the source is found
in Genesis, the Stoics, or, as is often asserted in secularized versions,
Francis Bacon and René Descartes, the suggestion is made that a par-
ticular strand of theology or philosophy has powerfully shaped Western
scientific and technological practice. But the extent of the argument
remains unclear. Are we to believe that the idea of the domination of
nature became a central part of Western education, that it was taught
by the church or in schools and universities? Did the idea somehow
enter the everyday world view, influencing the activities of a particular
social class or everyone in the culture? Whatever answers to such ques-
tions might be forthcoming, explanations like those given by Passmore
fail to forge the crucial gap between narrow doctrine and broad social
practice. We are asked, in effect, to make exorbitant inferences and fill
in steps that the theory itself leaves out. In Passmore’s case this results
in asking us to believe that much more attention was paid to the Stoics
in Western history than even the wildest overestimation of their influ-
ence would merit.

Much of the attraction of the domination of nature thesis, I suspect,
lies in the seeming profundity of its dramatic images. There is some-
thing oddly appealing in the idea that the troubles of our technological
age stem from a perverse streak in the very identity of Western man.
The vogue. of the notion has made it an important theme in mid-twen-
tieth-century philosophy, addressed seriously by certain schools of neo-
Marxian criticism and phenomenology. During the 1940s Max Hork-
heimer and Theodor Adorno argued for the centrality of the impulse
to dominate nature as an alternative to Marx’s original explanation of
the root of the ills of industrial society. A theory that took class strug-
gles in the context of capitalist accumulation as its starting point was
replaced by a deeper seeking vision of the flaw in Western culture.
Horkheimer’s Eclipse of Reason, for example, sets out to account for
certain crucial tendencies of thought—subjectivism, positivism, pragma-
tism, and instrumentalism—which, he maintains, characterize the patho-
logical direction Western reason has taken in the modern age. ‘‘Having

Autonomous Technology 116

given up autonomy, reason has become an instrument. In the formalis-
tic aspect of subjective reason, stressed by positivism, its unrelatedness
to objective content is emphasized; in its instrumental aspect, stressed
by pragmatism, its surrender to heteronomous contents is emphasized.
Reason has become completely harnessed to social process.” 24 Such
tendencies of thought, however, must be analyzed to their ultimate
source. “If one were to speak of a disease of reason affecting reason,
this disease should be understood not as having stricken reason at some
historical moment, but as being inseparable from the nature of reason
in civilization as we have known it so far. This disease of reason is that
reason was born from man’s urge to dominate nature, and the ‘re-
covery’ depends on insight into the nature of the original disease, not
on a cure of the latest symptoms.” 25 Horkheimer observes that this
mentality can be traced back as far as the Book of Genesis. In Dialectic
of .Enlightenment Horkheimer and Adorno find the same tendency
fully present in the thought and motives of Homeric Greece.26 The lo-
cation of origins, however, is less important to the two philosophers
than their belief that the historical development of enlightenment, the
very progress of human reason, is inextricably bound up with projects
of domination. 27

Indeed, any hypothesis that seeks to identify contemporary tenden-
cies toward uncontrolled technological expansion with specific histori-
cal origins takes on a difficult task, for what does it mean to locate the
responsibility with the ancient Greeks? The Hebrews? The medieval
Christians? And what do the alleged spiritual or intellectual roots have
to do with modern practice? Do they justify it? Motivate it? Encourage
it? As to their ability to provide an intelligible explanation on these
counts, the existing theories are simply incomplete.

Beyond such shortcomings, however, lies the even more crucial ques-
tion of whether, issues of methodology aside, the thesis is even roughly
true. Is the conquest of nature, as asserted in such writings, actually a
product of a despotic Western urge to dominate? Or is it more accu-
rately seen as a by-product of activities that flow from a more complex
variety of ideas and intentions? Certainly, scientific and technical works

The Flawand Its Origins 117

of the modern age have brought vast areas of nature into the domain of
human manipulation and control. True also, certain influential thinkers,
most notably Francis Bacon, have proposed the goal of bringing nature
under man’s governance as a noble motive for science. But neither of
these facts justifies the conclusion that all of science and technology is
driven by conceptions of and a mania for domination. If one examines
the actual activities of scientists, one finds them working to make sense
of masses of data, to formulate critical experiments in search of univer-
sal laws, and to make progress on what are often very limited topics of
research. Engineers, similarly, spend most of their time searching for
solutions to very specific, often mundane, practical problems. Indeed,
the combined result of these activities constitutes an increasingly
powerful mastery of the material world. But it is both superfluous and
unfair to suppose that an active desire for domination lies at the heart
of every aspect of scientific and technical work.

The idea that Western civilization stands alone subject to this ten-
dency is, it seems to me, also highly suspect. Interference with natural
processes and manipulation of the material environment has been prac-
ticed in some form by every culture. Human beings must control
nature, if only to a minor extent, in order to survive. Indeed, Europeans
and North Americans have succeeded in devising astoundingly effective
means for doing so. Their tools and techniques are now exported, with
sometimes unfortunate consequences, to non-Western cultures. But to
conclude from such evidence that the West is unique in its capacity for
destructive interference with nature is a mistake. In recent years the
American Indians and certain’ Oriental cultures have been upheld as
models for man’s harmony with the environment. Archeological evi-
dence, however, indicates that the Anasazis of the American Southwest
despoiled forests and land under pressures of a growing population.
Those who look to the East should remember the deforestation of
northern China already complete by the thirteenth century A.D. Criti-
cisms of the excesses in one’s own culture are not aided by the inven-
tion of mythical contrasts.

I shall return to these issues later as we consider the application of

Autonomous Technology 118

deep critique to the search for a ‘“‘new ethic.” Now as a contrast to
what we have just seen and because it has intrinsic merits of its own, I
want to turn to Jacques Ellul’s thoughts on the roots of technological
dynamism. Ellul touches upon many familiar themes, but he gives them
a novel twist.

The Victory of Technique
Ellul’s The Technological Society is sometimes understood to be a
theory of technological determinism. In the strict sense, however, that
interpretation is not correct. Unlike Marxist scholars, Ellul does not
read history to see how the forces of production have shaped social
configurations and the consciousness of men since the very dawn of
civilization. On the contrary, he holds that the influence of la technique
as a determining force appeared only in relatively recent times. Again
and again he stresses that ‘‘there is no common denominator between
the technique of today and that of yesterday. Today we are dealing
with an utterly different phenomenon.” 28 What he argues is that in the
course of modern history, circumstances arose in which technology
finally became the most influential element in civilized life. This de-
velopment, he asserts, took root in the eighteenth century, matured in
the nineteenth century, and bore its full fruit only in our time. “I do
not maintain,” Ellul cautions, ‘‘that the individual is more determined
today than he has been in the past; rather, that he is differently deter-
mined.”29 “We are conditioned by something new: technological
civilization.” 30

Ellul holds that in past civilizations, technique was limited in its
sphere of action. It was a purely local phenomenon, strictly contained
within the framework of particular societies and was merely one aspect
of life in those societies along with religion, art, politics, play, and so
forth. ‘Technique functioned only at certain precise and well-defined
times; this was the case in all societies before our own. Technique was
not part of man’s occupation nor a subject for preoccupation,” he ob-
serves.?! In traditional society there was little tendency for techniques
to develop rapidly or to migrate across cultural lines. “Technique was

The Flaw and Its Origins 119

unable to spread from one social group to another except when the two
were in the same stage of evolution and except when civilizations were
of the same type.”32 Above all, the limited techniques of the past
allowed the possibility of human choice as to the role technique would
play and therefore permitted a wide diversity of cultural forms.

Ellul’s survey of world history draws attention to two major exam-
ples in which technique was deliberately and successfully limited. In
both cases he finds that a religious or moral conviction in the culture
prevented an unrestrained development of technical means. The ancient
Greeks ‘‘were suspicious of technical activity because it represented an
aspect of brute force and implied a want of moderation.” 2° Their
culture was based on notions of harmony, balance, and self-control, and
they recognized that technique and its power might force open these
limits and destroy the balance that sustained them. “The rejection of
technique was a deliberate, positive activity involving self-mastery,
recognition of destiny, and the application of a given conception of life.
Only the most modest techniques were permitted—those which would
respond directly to material needs in such a way that these needs did
not get the upper hand.” 34 Ellul is fluent in his praise for the Greeks
on this matter and is careful to distinguish their response from ignorant
technophobia. ‘‘This feeling on the part of the Greeks was not a reflec-
tion of a primitive man’s fear in the face of something he does not
understand. ... Rather, it was the result, perfectly mastered and mea-
sured, of a certain conception of life. It represented an apex of civili-
zation and intelligence.” 35

An even more thorough restraint of technique, in his view, took
place in Christian civilization of medieval Europe. During the thousand-
year period from the fourth to the fourteenth century, technique pro-
gressed little at all, and many techniques known to the ancients were
lost. The Christians were antiworldly and therefore antitechnical. With
the decline of Rome they abandoned the practical operations of that
civilization and began a culture marked by the ‘‘nearly total absence of
technique.” 36 Ellul disagrees with White and others that the Christian
secularization of nature led to a desire to exploit the material world.37

Autonomous Technology 120

On the contrary, the Christians were suspicious of all practical activity
and condemned “everything that represented the earthly city, which
was consecrated to Satan and opposed to the City of God.” 38 In the
later Middle Ages, this stringent antiworldliness lost some of its hold,
but another aspect of Christianity remained as a limitation on the
growth of technique. The Christian was a severe moralist who insisted
that all human activity must be judged according to the standards of
good and evil set forth in the word of God. “Technical activity did not
escape Christian moral judgment. The question ‘Is it righteous?’ was
asked of every attempt to change modes of production or of organi-
zation. That something might be useful or profitable to men did not
make it right and just. It had to fit a precise conception of justice
before God. When an element of technique appeared to be righteous
from every point of view, it was adopted, but even then with excessive
caution.” 39

Thus, Ellul offers a conception of technology in Western history that
contradicts Passmore’s treatment of the Greeks on the one hand, and
White’s conclusions about Christianity on the other. And although it
is at least as plausible as either of those accounts, its accuracy is open to
question. Much of modern scholarship has tended to reverse the judg-
ment that Greece and medieval Europe were poorly developed in tech-
nics. Lewis Mumford has argued that the Greeks were in fact resource-
ful inventors and engineers and that the true roots of the industrial
revolution must be traced back to the technical innovations of the Mid-
dle Ages.*9 But Ellul is not speaking of inventions so much as the tech-
nical orientation of a whole culture. On balance, it seems to me correct
to say that ancient Greece, as represented by Athens and Sparta, and
European Christian civilization, as represented by the Church and feu-
dalism, were founded on ideals of social life, personal virtue, and public
conduct which at the very least did not greatly encourage technical
innovation. One can argue, in fact, that the eventual decline of these
civilizations came when the balance of elements sustaining them was
disrupted by (among other things) the advent of new techniques. But to
go a step further and conclude with Ellul that the highest ideals and

The Flaw and Its Origins 121

virtues successfully discouraged the development of technique is to
carry the case too far.

Indeed, it was against the modernizers and technical innovators of
Athens and in favor of the life of harmony, justice, and virtue that
Plato wrote. Insofar as the Republic is a technical treatise, it is a vision
of political artifice directly opposed to the new techniques of the time
—especially those of trade, finance, and warfare—which he believed
would eventually tear the polis apart. In the Gorgias he observes. ‘“‘With
no regard for self-control or justice they stuffed our state with harbors
and docks and walls and tribute money and all such nonsense; so when
this presumed attack of illness finally comes, they will blame the
advisors who happen to be about at the time, while praising to the skies
Themistocles and Cimon and Pericles, though they were the true author
of the trouble.’4!

But protests like those of Plato and his followers were futile in
changing the direction that Greece had long since taken. Ellul may be
right in identifying the highest ideals of Greek and Christian culture as
antitechnical, but he is wrong in finding them a powerful counterforce
to technical progress. Actual examples of the suppression of technique
are found in much more mundane settings. The guilds and corporations
of medieval Europe tended to fear the disruptive effects of technical
innovation and often sought to prevent the spread of new develop-
ments. In 1578 the Council of Nuremberg destroyed the lathe of crafts-
man Hans Spaichl because Spaichl had arranged to sell his device to a
goldsmith.*2

When and under what conditions were the cultural limitations on
technique which Ellul describes finally removed? His analysis tries to
sort through the events leading up to the decisive transformation
and distinguish them from the occurrence itself. Although the world of
total technology was forming during the Renaissance and scientific
revolution, neither the sixteenth nor the seventeenth century was
capable of bringing the movement to victory. There were still a few im-
portant barriers left, especially the humanism of the period that as-
serted the supremacy of men over means. ‘‘This humanism,” Ellul con-

itonomous Technology 122

udes, ‘‘did not allow techniques to grow.’’43 “Society was at a cross
ads. More and more the need was felt to create new means; even the
ructure these must take was clearly perceived. But the framework of
ciety, the ideas in currency, the intellectual positions of the day were
yt favorable to their realization. It was necessary to employ technical
eans in a framework foreign to them.’’44

The lifting of restraints and the explosion of technical innovation
me at last in the middle and late eighteenth century. In Ellul’s story,
iis was the time of the Fall for modern man. He explains the birth of
chnological society as a convergence of a number of historical condi-
ons. Each of these conditions by itself, he insists, would not have been
fficient. But together they were absolutely effective in creating a new
orld-historical phenomenon.

The first condition was the fruition of a long technical experience.
ere he agrees with Mumford that what occurred during this time was a
mthesis of previously separate inventions into a ‘‘technical complex”
r “ensemble,” as evident, for example, in the technology of the indus-
ial revolution or of Napoleon’s army. A second element was the
‘owth of population, which “entails a growth of needs which cannot
e satisfied except by technical development.” 45 Also required were
srtain economic conditions, namely that the economy be both stable
id at the same time highly flexible so that new inventions could be
ysorbed into economic life and further inventions and innovations
imulated. The economic practices of the European bourgeoisie at that
me provided exactly this kind of economic environment. Beyond this,
llul describes a situation that he holds to be most important of all: the
lasticity of the social milieu. This, he believes, included two significant
spects: (1) the disappearance of the taboos inherited from Christianity
ad traditional society that discouraged any tampering with the sacred
c natural order of things; and (2) a disintegration of natural social
roups that released men into the world as atomized individuals. The
almination of these conditions came in the appearance of what Ellul
rms ‘‘a clear technical intention’? throughout society. Men began to

=
i

The Flaw and Its Origins 123

see the usefulness of technique in every area of life and oriented all of
their activities toward it.

- Ellul adds to this list several other items: the progress of scientific
investigation and discovery, the rise of naturalism and utilitarianism in
philosophy, and a sweeping change in human attitudes, including a
generally more sanguine view of life’s possibilities. The two most impor-
tant parts of his argument, however, are those which concern social
plasticity and ‘‘the technical intention,” for what took place, he be-
lieves, was the reverse of what happened at the collapse of Rome. At
that time a whole civilization flew apart, and men founded a new one
that abandoned worldliness and technique. In the eighteenth century,
the hold of the medieval order over the lives of men collapsed alto-
gether, thus leaving the way clear for new modes of action based on
technique. In neither case did the shift occur overnight. But there was a
critical point in history beyond which there was no return. In this re-
gard The Technological Society is similar in its historical position to
The City of God and ina perverse way attempts to serve the same func-
tion. Where Saint Augustine described and justified the formation of a
new society dedicated to God, Ellul stands as an ironic devil’s advocate
giving an account of man’s return to Satan’s kingdom.*6

Speaking of the disintegration of ‘‘natural social groups” Ellul refers
to the cohesive, authoritative structures of collective interest of such
institutions as the peasant communes, the guilds, the parliaments, the
universities, and hospitals in medieval society. During the French Revo-

lution and the revolutionary ferment of Europe in the late eighteenth

and early nineteenth centuries, these groups were attacked and dis-
mantled in the name of the rights of the individual. With these institu-
tions destroyed, men at all social levels were left as rootless, atomized
units ripe for reorganization. ‘‘The society produced was perfectly
malleable and remarkably flexible from both the intellectual and the
material points of view. The technical phenomenon had its most fa-
vorable environment since the beginning of history.”47 Individuals
responded to the chaos and fragmentation by seizing hold of the one

Autonomous Technology 124

reliable thing available at the time: la technique. It was on this thread
that they began to reestablish their identity, security, and fortune.

It is important-to notice precisely what Ellul means by la technique
in this context. His perspective, which is typically French, finds the es-
sence of this transition in reason, more specifically, reason made active
in the world. Looking at the Enlightenment and the French Revolution,
Ellul finds that both of these were masks for a much more fundamental
and consequential movement: the technical revolution. If one looks at
the history of the times and asks, What from that period was truly last-
ing? one finds that it was above all a rationalization and systematization
of all activity. ‘“This systematization, unification, and clarification was
applied to everything—it resulted not only in the establishment of
budgetary rules and in fiscal organization, but in the systematization of
weights and measures and the planning of roads. All this represented
technique at work.’48 At the very height of chaos, a new order, one
based on reason and artifice, began to take form. ‘From this point of
view,” Ellul concludes, ‘‘it might be said that technique is the transla-
tion into action of man’s concern to master things by means of reason,
to account for what is subconscious, make quantitive what is quali-
tative, make clear and precise the outlines of nature, take hold of chaos
and put order into it.’’49

Ellul argues that the formation of the technological society was not
accomplished through a single rational plan or by the systematization
of life from any central source. Instead, it was the result of radically
decentralized action based on “‘special interest.’’ By ‘‘special’” interest,
he does not mean “private.” The point is that the development and
application of techniques, whether by the state or by private concerns,
proceeded according to the most narrow of motives and decision cri-
teria. ‘Will it be effective in this particular instance?” was the only
question asked. Contrary to some interpretations of his work, Ellul
does not argue that technique does not serve human needs. In his eyes
the secret of technique is that it serves virtually all such needs and
serves them well. One at a time.

The Flaw and Its Origins 125

An important consequence of the bringing together of special in-
terests and technique in this manner is that any concern for the whole
of society vanished altogether. In the early history of the technological
society, it would have seemed nonsensical for anyone to have been
concerned with the unintended consequences of atomized technical
action for the world at large. Within the limits of the ‘‘technical inten-
tion,” such things were simply not at stake. Adam Smith’s mention of
“the invisible hand’ with reference to the welfare of society as a whole
briefly recognizes this problem. But the ‘hand’? could merely wave
goodbye, as if from a rapidly passing train.

For Ellul, the most active carriers and first beneficiaries of the tech-
nical movement were the bourgeoisie. The very identity of this class, he
believes, depends on this attachment. A bourgeois is above all else
someone who has mastered technique. The bourgeoisie first developed
financial and commercial techniques and went on to originate the fac-
tory system, the rational administration of the state, technical schools,
and so forth. They were truly people suited to their times—marginal,
atomized individuals, obsessed by special interest, fascinated by science,
and convinced that reason must be made active in every corner of social
and material existence. As in the analysis of Karl Marx, the bourgeoi-
sie is midwife to a new society undergoing pangs of birth. Ellul admits
that he has learned much from Marx and that he uses Marx’s ‘‘method
of interpretation” and ‘“‘way of ‘seeing’ the political, economic and
social problems.” 59 But in this case, as in many others, he insists that
Marx was wrong. In seeing the rise of technological society solely in
terms of capitalism, Marx mistook the part for the whole. He focused
only upon techniques involved in one significant sphere of bourgeois
activity. By seizing upon economic issues alone, and by convincing
the proletariat that economic maladies were the source of all possible
problems, Marx effectively cut himself and the proletariat off from the
true realities of the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries—the total re-
organization of life on a narrowly conceived rational basis. It was this
process that eventually enveloped and absorbed the proletariat, thus

Autonomous Technology 126

obliterating the last vital source of opposition and alternatives. Marx,
Ellul clearly states, was the unwitting servant of this movement,
seduced by his own love of technology.°!

Ellul’s conception of the victory of la technique is similar in its
structure to Louis Harz’s argument in The Liberal Tradition in
America.®2 Both hold that a certain mode of thought and action, a
particular way of defining problems and responding to them, was
adopted by a society and then became the dominant pattern that gov-
erned universally from that time forward. This type of activity—in
Hartz liberal politics, in Ellul technical action—becomes both a con-
scious and unconscious response to whatever situation arises. This re-
sponse pattern strongly and automatically repulses any alternative
mode of activity. By its own power over the ideas and behavior of men,
it neutralizes the alternatives by making them seem unnatural, imprac-
tical, or simply impossible. Hartz suggests that ‘‘the liberalism of Ameri-
can life, by erecting a set of hidden traps and false facades, confounded
not one but all groups who live within it.53 This way of life frustrated
all attempts at true conservatism, socialism, romanticism, and non-
Lockean democracy. In much the same way The Technological Society
points to conceptions of social life eclipsed by the West’s growing ob-
session with technical solutions. Institutions based upon age-old tradi-
tion were obvious casualties. The ingenious alternatives for industrial
civilization posed by the utopians and anarchists met a similarly un-
happy fate.

There were, of course, many voices which spoke in protest of the
great transformation Ellul describes or at least suggested that it proceed
in a different direction. Early on, Jean Jacques Rousseau criticized the
path of progress based on the development of ‘‘arts and science.” Such
supposed improvement was, he argued, actually a form of decadence,
which took the human race even further from its essential nature and
from the social conditions required to sustain true virtue in the indi-
vidual. Rousseau’s dream for the modern world was one that envisioned
the creation of relatively small, self-sufficient communities of free and
equal citizens in which considerations of public good would reign

The Flaw and Its Origins 127

supreme. Needless to say, this was not a dream destined to be realized
in historical practice. Others who form a minor tradition counter to the
rise of technological society include Robert Owen, Charles Fourier,
Bakunin, Proudhon, Kropotkin, Ned Ludd and his ‘‘army,” William
Morris, John Ruskin, the aesthetic movement, the dadaists, surrealists,
situationists, and a host of other noble losers. In some cases their plans
and protests simply lost out in the marketplace of ideas. But it was also
true that some were vanquished by force. Speaking in Parliament in
1812 on the matter of the antiframe riots, Lord Byron inquired, ‘‘Can
you commit a whole country to their own prisons? Will you erect a
gibbet in every field, and hang up men like scarecrows? or will you
proceed... by decimation? depopulate and lay waste all around you?
place the country under martial law?” 54 Byron’s anticipations of the
extent of the troubles were extreme, but the English army was dis-
patched and, with little scruple for bloodshed, put the rioters down.

With the demise of alternate ways of relating ends to means in so-
ciety, the technical intention, according to Ellul, finally ruled supreme.
Through decades of successful practice, what emerged was ‘‘the tech-
nical phenomenon’’—a condition in which the consciousness and judg-
ment of all became exclusively oriented to technical solutions. There
was, in other words, much more to the triumph of la technique than
the effective ordering of new inventions and technical operations.
Also involved was the gradual adaptation of all human needs, desires,
plans, and processes of thought to the technical mode—that is, to the
rational, artificial, productive mode of activity. Human consciousness
was not absent from the development. It was very much present. But it
was now everywhere shaped within extremely narrow technical chan-
nels. ‘‘The twofold intervention of reason and consciousness in the
technical world, which produces the technical phenomenon, can be
described as the quest of the one best means in every field. And this
‘one best means’ is, in fact the technical means. It is the aggregate of
these means that produces technical civilization.” 55

Along with writings already discussed, Ellul’s work provides an occa-
sion to evaluate the existing speculation on Western technological dyna-

Autonomous Technology 128

mism. Although such theories differ greatly in substance, they share
certain characteristic virtues and defects.

Without doubt, the basic aim is entirely admirable. The questions
raised are good ones, even when the answers fall woefully short. They
do bring us to reflect upon important tendencies that, evidently, do
have their genesis deep in our culture’s past. In recent popularizations
like Robert Pirsig’s Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance, these
questions are fruitfully raised for a mass audience ready, in some way at
least, to reexamine the modern stance toward things technical. Tech-
nological society, after all, has never shown any great commitment to
self-reflection, self-criticism, or the study of its own history. Writings
of this kind try to fill in what is actually an embarrassing lack in our
understanding, the understanding of the nature of the major renova-
tions in civilized life that have taken place in recent generations.

In Ellul’s case, for instance, the stress upon the ‘fone best means”
can be seen as critique of the radical narrowness so evident in much of
technical thought and action. Modern conceptions of practice stipulate
that effective performance requires a drastic limiting of the factors per-
ceived or operated upon. One excludes most of the variables present in
a situation and deliberately focuses upon a scant few. In identifying this
way of seeing and acting, one is not casting aspersions on any particular
kind of person, not suggesting, for example, that scientists or technolo-
gists are inherently shallow or insensitive. That is not the point at all.
As Wylie Sypher has suggested, the technical mode is just as much char-
acteristic in modern arts and letters as in science and technics. Speaking
of the progress of art in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries, Sypher
observes, ‘“‘The heavy investment in method suggests that the artist was
subject to the same imperatives as the scientist and that the fissure be-
tween science and art was not so wide as is alleged, or the kind of fis-
sure one might think, since both were highly specialized executions or
procedures.” 96 In the technical mode, painting becomes a matter of
solving problems of color and form. Rewards are passed out to those
who determine how best to paint a white square on a white back-

The Flaw and Its Origins 129

ground. In a technicized profession of philosophy, one uses language
analysis to ‘solve’? age-old conceptual problems. Progress is made by
those who unravel the standard ‘“‘puzzles” in epistemology, ethics, or
metaphysics. In political science Ellul’s ‘‘technical :phenomenon’’ oc-
curs in the dominant notion of how the discipline improves: through
the continual updating of survey methods, interview techniques, data
analysis, concept analysis and a never-ending retooling in the sphere of
methodology. The idea that the enterprise had something to do with
shared wisdom about politics has gradually become an anachronism.

Fascination with technique could easily be traced through any num-
ber of fields of contemporary practice. Success lies in refined perfor-
mance within carefully circumscribed limits following the proper
method. This is just as true of rationalization and systematization in
the professions as it is for those who employ techniques of transcen-
dental meditation or make love with The Joy of Sex in one hand, their
partner in the other.

Much more than the domination-of-nature hypothesis, Ellul’s render-
ing of the “technical phenomenon” helps to reveal much of what is
most perplexing in the way modern society goes about its work. Tech-
nically educated persons face what they believe to be perilous uncer-
tainty in areas beyond the “scope and method” of their training. They
are inclined, therefore, to look no further. As for the broader place of
each variety of technical performance within the whole of society, that
is quite literally no one’s business. It is precisely this well-trained tech-
nical narrowness that lies at the foundations of the phenomena of un-
intentionality and technological drift I pointed to in the previous
chapter. The profound depth of this tendency is, I believe, best illus-
trated by the fact that even those who now acknowledge a problem
in man’s relations with nature often move from that insight to become
unreconstructed technological systems builders on a potentially colos-
sal scale. A noble desire to save the biosphere from destruction is ex-
pressed in a frantic whirl of computer modeling, systems dynamics
calculations in the Jay Forrester school, and plans for more ambitious

Autonomous Technology 130

global management. Of course, this is the irony of Ellul’s thesis—that
characteristically almost anything we seize upon to liberate us from our
plight simply reinforces the basic quandary.

The strengths of Ellul’s vision, however, are matched by equally
serious deficiencies. While he pays attention to a wide variety of socio-
logical conditions that contributed to the shaping of modern society,
his treatment of them remains relatively superficial. A truly elegant
theory of social circumstances in eighteenth-century Europe and
America that led to universal adoption of a technical mentality is miss-
ing from his book. Instead, the factors he lists all become preconditions
of a univocal phenomenon, which can thereafter be treated by single-
factor explanation. It is an odd state of affairs that a thinker so wary of
mechanism should have produced so mechanical a theory. This reduc-
tionist tendency in his thinking, common to philosophers searching for
the flaw in Western culture, leads to a badly distorted reading of recent
history. Indeed, techniques of communication, propaganda, and police
work have played an important part in the rise of modern totalitarian
states. Refinement in techniques of warfare definitely has something to
do with the frequency and destructiveness of war in the twentieth
century. But to explain war, totalitarianism, or any other fact of the
times wholly or substantially by reference to the culture’s obsession
with technique is certainly to overstate the case.

The Search for a “‘New Ethic”

Characteristic of writings that probe the ultimate philosophical, reli-
gious, or historical grounds of technological society is a tendency to
gravitate toward extreme hypotheses. Hence, Ellul insists that the ‘fone
best means” must be understood in an absolute, rather than a relative
sense. To interpret technical improvement as a matter of degree is, he
believes, to ignore the very essence of technique. The drift of other im-
portant writings in this genre—notably those of Edmund Husserl,
Martin Heidegger, and Max Scheler—continue the tendency of repre-
senting technology as a totally univocal phenomenon, a monolithic
force in modern life.” Once the thinker has penetrated the unitary

The Flaw and Its Origins 131

core of this phenomenon, anything else that one might say or do about
questions in this area becomes mere child’s play. At least so it appears
from the perspective of theories of this kind.

Following the implications of the philosophic quest, participants in
the discussion have gone in either of two directions. One is the path of
thoughtful passivity, which acknowledges the scale of the dilemma and
realistically retreats from any thought of activism. Ellul’s reflections at
the conclusion of his book tell us that: “enclosed within his artificial
creation, man finds that there is ‘no exit’; that he cannot pierce the
shell of technology to find again the ancient milieu to which he was
adapted for hundreds of thousands of years.”758 While it is true that
part of Ellul’s intention is to goad his readers to action, the final re-
marks give no hint of possible hope.

In a similar way Martin Heidegger’s What Is Called Thinking? takes
the reader on a fascinating journey of ideas which, among other things,
promises to answer the question of how man might master technology
out of control. Late in the book Heidegger finally reveals to us what
can be attained in this search. ‘‘We must,” he writes, ‘‘first of all re-
spond to the nature of technology, and only afterward ask whether and
how man might become its master. And that question may turn out to
be nonsensical, because the essence of technology stems from the
presence of what is present, that is, from the Being of beings—some-
thing of which man never is the master, of which he can at best be the
sérvant.”59 A thorough treatment of Heidegger’s theory of technology
and its basis in existential phenomenology is something I must forego
here. Nevertheless, one can appreciate from the above passage that
Heidegger’s speculations tend to make any question of the sort ‘“‘What
next?” largely irrelevant.

A second route that philosophers have traveled is to propose the
adoption of a ‘‘new ethic” for technical and scientific practice in our
culture. This solution seems particularly attractive to those who have
decided that the root malady lies in Western man’s relation to nature.
Lynn White finds the basis for a revised moral stance in the teachings
of Saint Francis of Assissi.69 An alternative Christian ethic would, he

Autonomous Technology 132

maintains, recognize the equality of all creatures and discard the notion
of human monarchy over nature. Following a neo-Marxian approach to
much the same problem, William Leiss takes a bold step that Hork-
heimer and Adorno, perhaps wisely, avoided:

The idea of the mastery of nature must be reinterpreted in such a way
that its principal focus is ethical or moral development rather than
scientific and technological innovation. In this perspective progress in
the mastery of nature will be at the same time progress in the liberation
of nature. The latter, like the former, is a rational idea, a concept, an
achievement of human thought; therefore the reversal or transforma-
tion which is intended in the transition from mastery to liberation con-
cerns the gradual self-understanding and self-disciplining of human
nature. §1

These are noble sentiments. But one is left wondering what kind of
fresh resolve such writings actually advocate. In White’s case, for
example, it is difficult to believe that following some astounding re-
evaluation of the culture’s latent religious foundations, men in West-
ern societies would take up Saint Francis’s beneficent countenance.
Yet that is exactly what White appears to suggest. After reading Leiss’s
statement of advocacy, one is still perplexed as to what “‘progress in
the liberation of nature” might mean. That human beings can be
liberated makes sense. Perhaps that is why Leiss ties his point so closely
to “human nature.” But those who have worried about man’s ‘‘domina-
tion,” “despotism,” or ‘‘mastery” over nature have had much more
than human nature in mind. At stake is nothing less than the capacity
of modern science to bring all of material reality under intellectual and
practical command. The play of conceptual opposites in Leiss’s formu-
lation— domination versus liberation—leads to confusion when applied
to man’s heavy-handed treatment of the environment. One may wish
to counsel something. But “liberation” does little to identify it.

The expectation that a rapid shift of attitudes could follow a philo-
sophical critique is also badly misplaced. What would such a change

look like? I imagine posted signs that read:

The Flaw and Its Origins 133

Attention friends and neighbors. Today begins a fundamental change in
our view of ourselves and the biosphere. Henceforth, instead of acting
as predators upon the land, the plants, and animals, we will take a more
enlightened, self-disciplined, moderate stance. The very next time you
walk up to a tree, flower, cow, bluejay, or babbling brook, assume a
peaceful feeling in your heart of hearts. (And so forth.)

The prudence of philosophy has always included an understanding that
prescriptions of too great a specificity tend to be absurd. That is one
reason why Marx remained silent on the design of communist society,
why Plato left much unsaid about the path to the Form of the Good.
Even the deepest insights about the world and man’s place in it may,
nevertheless, leave one perplexed as to what action is appropriate. To
have completed even the most effective critique of Western metaphysics
is no guarantee that one will know what, if anything, to do next. The
great mistake of attempts to propose a “new ethic,” it seems to me,
is that they proceed as if the enterprise were something like philosophi-
cal engineering—a special kind of problem solving. But at the level at
which one seeks to elucidate first principles about man, nature, and
being, the world is not a problem set. It is, if anything, a question set.

In summary, explorations of the origins of excess and uncontrol-
lability in modern technological practice suffer two important short-
comings. First is an eagerness to advance unitary, totalistic hypotheses
with unwarranted conviction in an area marked by a multiplicity of
complicated questions and a high degree of uncertainty. The theories
pretend to have knowledge that is not so easily available and to which,
possibly, we are not even entitled. Second is a penchant for suggesting
vast revolutions in consciousness where good sense and moderation
might do. An overestimation of what the critique reveals is matched
by odd conceptions of what action is appropriate.

Surely there must be a more fruitful way of going about this, a more
helpful approach to the questions that matter. Rather than storm the
metaphysical foundations of civilized existence hounding an illusory
“new ethic,” it may be more to the point to reexamine a number of

Autonomous Technology 134

traits most closely linked to the development of Western technology—
the spirit of scientific inquiry; the vital interest in invention, Hnkering:
fixing, and problem solving; the risk-taking, gambling urge of inno-
vators and entrepreneurs (often mistaken for a mere lust for profit); the
universal desire to rid the world of pain and trouble—and then ask when
and how such impulses get out of hand. No evidence exists of any cul-
ture that has gotten away without some attempt to understand, alter,
and exploit nature. No evidence can be found of any human socisty
that has not employed tools and techniques. The interesting question 1s
why the modern West has proceeded along these paths with virtually no
sense of limits.

If I am right, what is needed are inquiries that stand somewhere be-
tween the ultimate “Being of beings” and the latest squabble on this or
that social gadget. One must seek simultaneously to avoid depths with-
out direction and details without meaning. It is with this understanding
that I now turn to a subject that has traditionally found its work in
the middle ground between ideas sublime and affairs quotidian—the

subject of political theory.

Chapter 4
Technocracy

Many of the problems we have been considering are material for poli-
tics. Technological change is now widely recognized as political insofar t
as its effects are ubiquitous, touch everyone in society, and can, there-
fore, be understood as ‘‘public’”’ in a distinctly modern sense. Under-
stood in this fashion, political questions concerning technology abound
at every turn. One can study the effects of satellite communications on
international affairs or of computers upon the style and content of poli-
tical campaigns. One can examine the interest-group struggles that stand
behind the approval of an antiballistic missile system or the veto of a
supersonic transport program. Increasingly, social scientists involved in
policy studies find themselves confronting such issues, for the domain
of politics and that of technics overlap.

But without denying the importance of such research, I want to fol-
low a different approach to the intersection of the two spheres. The
image of autonomous technology warns us to avoid any premature
narrowing of our conceptions of either the political or the technologi-
cal. To place the issue in terms of a single case study or the behavior of
a particular agency, community, congressional committee, or set of
interest groups is to ignore a range of problems which beckon us. Our
next step, therefore, will be to examine two alternate ways of seeing
technology as a general dilemma in political life. The first approach,
the more conventional, considers the question of technocracy—rule by
scientific and technical elites—and its challenge to traditional thought
and practice.

Classical Technocracy

It is unfortunate that the first modern vision of a technocratic society,
Francis Bacon’s scientific utopia, New Atlantis, was left unfinished at
the author’s death. Written in the period following Bacon’s ignominous
fall from office, the book is tentative or ambiguous on most of the
questions that now seem most important, particularly those concerning
the relationship between scientific and political power. The forty or so
pages of the book describe the visit of a crew of English sailors to the
island kingdom of Bensalem. Most notable and esteemed of Bensalem’s

Autonomous Technology 136

institutions is a magnificent scientific academy, ‘“Salomon’s House” or
“The College of the Six Days Works,” which the visitors are told “‘is
the very eye of the kingdom.” ! Clearly patterned on the design of col-
lective scientific research and technological application outlined in the
Novum Organum, the purposes of Salomon’s House are exactly those
one would expect from a Baconian scheme. “The End of Our Founda-
tion is the knowledge of Causes, the secret motions of things; and the
enlarging of the bounds of Human Empire, to the effecting of all things
possible.” 2 The man of scientific ambition, who we noticed earlier, has
now been set to work building what Bacon had described as a nonpoli-
tical “empire.” Throughout the kingdom, stations for scientific research
and development have been established, manned by highly trained
crews. Every conceivable aspect of nature that might be probed or
modified is given the most rigorous attention. This work has continued
since its founding nineteen hundred years earlier by a man with a “large
heart, inscrutable for good,’”’ King Solamona, who “was wholly bent to
make his kingdom and people happy.”3 The fruits of this work are now
manifest: vast knowledge of the earth, air, water, animals, fish, and
vegetation along with the useful development of great machines, foods,
and marvelous devices of every description.

But there is something very peculiar about the land of Bensalem and
much in New Atlantis that leaves us wondering. A strongly enforced
veil of secrecy shrouds most of the life of the island. There are certain
things about which the “strangers” simply may not learn. All that one
knows of the country after reading the sailor’s account is that it is a
Christian nation and that it contains the scientific academy. There are
occasional references to “‘the state,”’ to a king and governors of cities, as
well as to other minor state officials. But the character of this state and
its relation to the scientific foundation is not spelled out, although
the two are apparently distinct entities. The Father of the House, intro-
duced to the visitors, remarks that there are certain findings that ‘‘we
think fit to keep secret: though some of those we do reveal to the
state, and some not.’* The visitors repeatedly note that Bensalem is a
happy place, but what little glimpse of the people of the kingdom we

Technocracy 137

receive is one of a regimented, rigidly obedient lot obsessed with reli-
gious piety, secretive in all of their dealings, and fascinated by the possi-
bility that somewhere in the world there are sinful, unchaste goings-on.
At the ritual of the ‘‘Feast of the Family,” the people recite the slogan:
“Happy are the people of Bensalem.”> But why they should say this is
never evident. ‘

Unlike other utopian writings, there is almost nothing in New Atlan-
tis to back up the claim that the world described is happy or well gov-
erned. Bacon’s obvious model for the work, Thomas More’s Utopia,
does spell out the nature of the political institutions of an imaginary
land and makes clear exactly why its people are contented. Remarka-
bly, Bacon does none of this. He refuses, at least in this fragment, to
provide the endless details with which most other utopian writings are
filled. As a result, the land takes on an air of mystery and even fore-
boding. Is Bensalem a good state or a bad one? We do not know. But
the now-standard interpretation of New Atlantis as a perfectly ordered
scientific utopia is certainly open to question.

What Bacon would have done with the book if he had finished is an
interesting question for speculation. One theme he may have wanted to
develop is that of the political world as one of corruption and inepti-
tude and the realm of science, in contrast, as one of purity, intelli-
gence, and competence. Evidence of corruption in Bensalem appears
when the visitors offer gifts to the people. In each case the people re-
fuse the gifts and are shocked at the attempt to give them. ‘What?
twice paid!” one of their guides responds when the visitors hand him
some money. For “they call an officer that taketh rewards, twice
paid.”® Why are the people distressed about such offerings? Is there a
history of scandal in the politics of the land? Much of this aspect of the
book may be a satire on the bribery charges that brought Bacon’s own
downfall. In the words of the Bensalemians, Bacon was himself twice
paid in the custom of his time and later ‘suffered for it. The references
to possible bribery in New Atlantis could be dismissed lightly were it
not for the fact that the fragment ends with the Father of Salomon’s
House giving a sum of money to the visitors. ‘And so he left me; having

Autonomous Technology 138

assigned a value of about two thousand ducats, for a bounty to me and
my fellows. For they give great largesses where they come upon all
occasions. ”7 Why do the Fathers of the House give great sums of
money when they come and go? Does this mean that when men of high
virtue in the realm of science and technics have dealings with men in
the mundane or political world, they must resort to bribery? Or are
they somehow beyond all of that and able to make their generous gifts
for different reasons? ,

It is conceivable that if Bacon had finished his utopia, the line be-
tween scientific technology and politics would have been more clearly
drawn, probably at the expense of the latter. Written three decades be-
fore the founding of the Royal Society, New Atlantis may have been a
prophecy that scientific and technical institutions were uniquely suited
to govern in the age of ‘‘The Great Instauration.” Politics of the tradi-
tional sort could only be a drag on the development. In this regard the
book does introduce two major themes that run throughout modern
technocratic writing: power and authority placed on a new foundation.

If there are other sources of political power equal to that of Salo-
mon’s House, we are not told of them. The works of the foundation are
the guiding influence in all the affairs of Bensalem. The political sphere
has become a matter of administration on the one hand and of hollow
ritual and symbol on the other. True governance in the land is con-
tained by the knowledge, organization, and performance of the scien-
tists and technicians, who apparently are given free rein.

Salomon’s House and its ruling elite have also gained a predominance
of authority. When one of the Fathers of the House visits a city he is
feted with ceremony due an emperor. ‘‘Behind his chariot went all the
officers and principals of the Companies of the City. He sat alone, upon
cushions of a kind of excellent plush, blue; and under his foot curious
carpets of silk of divers colours, like the Persian, but far finer. He held
up his bare hand as he went, as blessing the people, but in silence.’”8
The inhabitants of the city line up along the streets and at the windows
‘fas if they had been placed” to offer homage to the great man. The

Technocracy 139

Father, with ‘‘an aspect as if he pitied men,” is the embodiment of
aristotechnocratic rule.?

Conceptions of power and authority in technocratic writings have
remained virtually unchanged since Bacon. Power is ultimately the
power of nature itself, released by the inquiries of science and made
available by the inventive, organizing capacity of technics.!9 All other
sources of political power—wealth, public support, personal charisma,
social standing, organized interest—are weak by comparison. They are
anachronisms in a technological age and will ultimately decline as scien-
tific technology and the people who most directly control its forces
become more important to the workings of society. To say this is only
to recognize the drift of history and to be realistic. Elaborate political
facades of various kinds may still surround the exercise of technocratic
power, but beneath the surface, the true situation will always be
evident.

Authority, like power, is in this point of view the product of knowl-
edge and extraordinary performance. If those persons valuable or indis-
pensable to the policy are those entitled to govern, then a society based
on sophisticated technologies will tend to legitimate its scientists and
technicians as rulers. Their expertise and accomplishment will naturally
gain the esteem of the other members of society. Other sources of au-
thority from earlier times and earlier understandings of the common,
good—tradition, religion, natural law, contract—must inevitably yield to
this new mode of legitimation. In the search for an appropriate com-
parison, some writers have employed the metaphor of the priesthood
to try to capture the special authority of the new men of, knowledge.!!

In most actual statements, these ideas are not presented in anything
like a pure form. They are modified by numerous other political con-
cerns and circumstances, some of which we will examine later on. But
the technocratic strand of thinking, insofar as it is an influence on
modern political theory and whether it speaks in favor, opposition, or
neutrality, always rests on premises of the kind we have just seen.

These are, of course, basically unpolitical ideas. They stand to the

Autonomous Technology 140

political tradition of the West in much the same way that General
Motors stands to a blacksmith. If the possibility they express is accu-
rate, one could only look forward to a spectacular supersession of
politics (whatever its definition). The power described here is the can-
cellation of all other varieties of power and the cancellation of the
historical debate about how power exists and how it works. The au-
thority rests on a human population dwarfed and submissive before
forces it cannot understand or influence but entirely content with the
services offered.!2 Even the most pessimistic of traditional thinking on
man and society has granted more to the public sphere than this.

The occasion for technocratic thought has usually come in one of
two ways: as utopian speculation or as commentary on the devolution
of existing political systems. In the first instance, technocracies appear
in designs for a world of the future in which the affairs of men have
been perfected through a rational, harmonious plan. In the second, such
notions are the conclusions of men who have read the currents of his-
tory and find that, for better or worse, society will inevitably be gov-
erned by scientists and technicians of one kind or another. Here is
another reflection of the modern ambivalence about technology. A
technicized regime deliberately built according to an ideal plan is the
penultimate dream of all science fiction and science fantasy. But tech-
nocracy which arrives through no settled plan but as the result of the
enervation of politics and the rise of a technical elite is one of the
primary vexations of modern political thought. At one time or another
technocratic rule has been announced as the logical successor for every
sort of political and economic system: feudalism, democracy, capi-
talism, socialism.

In many instances utopian and historical speculations have been
combined. The demise of a political system is seen as an opportunity
for the building of a technological society ruled by a technically com-
petent aristocracy. This was the outlook of Henri Comte de Saint-
Simon at a time when the ancien regime was being dismantled and a
new system constructed in its place. Saint-Simon’s criticism of the
French Revolution was that its efforts were overly political and did not

Technocracy 141

take into account the realities of the new mode of social organization
taking shape at the same time. ‘“‘The men who brought about the Revo-
lution,” he observed, ‘tthe men who directed it, and the men who,
since 1789 and up to the present day, have guided the nation, have
committed a great political mistake. They have all sought to improve
the governmental machine, whereas they should have subordinated it
and put administration in the first place.” 13 True progress was located
in the development of the new instruments of technology and tech-
niques of governmental administration. This required, Saint-Simon
argued, a system of expert management by industrialists, scientists, and
technicians.

The precise form of the proposed government was one that now
seems very traditional indeed. Saint-Simon placed the members of his
technical elite in a parliament with three houses: the Chamber of Inven-
tions, Chambers of Review, and Chamber of Deputies. The Chamber of
Inventions, composed of two hundred engineers and a scattering of
poets, painters, architects, and musicians, would decide the basic plan
for all of France. The Chamber of Review, made up of mathematicians
and pure scientists, would judge programs devised by the Chamber of
Inventions and serve as a control over its policies. Completing the ar-
rangement of checks and balances, the Chamber of Deputies, composed
of practicing industrialists, would serve as an executive body to imple-
ment the plan.!4 Notably absent from Saint-Simon’s scheme is any
trace of equality or electoral democracy. The members of the parlia-
ment were to be chosen according to professional competence alone
and not elected by the populace at large. The ascendance of scientific
and industrial classes could take place only at the expense of a total
neutralization of the political role of the majority of men and women,
benighted souls, who did not possess higher knowledge and skill. “A
scientist, my friends, is a man who predicts,” Saint-Simon announces.
“It is because science has the means of prediction that it is useful, and
makes scientists superior to all other men.” 15

In the decades since Saint-Simon offered his plan, the conception of
who would have membership in the technical elite has been repeatedly

Autonomous Technology 142

revised. With the coming of each new technique or apparatus there has
usually been someone eager to write a manifesto or utopian novel tell-

ing how an aristocracy linked to the development will revolutionize all
social and political practice. A noted pioneer in such speculative writing
was H. G. Wells. In his “‘scientific romances” Wells often began by con-
structing an imaginary society dependent upon a particular kind of

advanced machinery and governed by scientists, technicians, or

managers of good or evil stripe.!6 With such conditions as a basis, his

stories then unfold.

Wells’s When the Sleeper Wakes takes place in an advanced indus-
trial society in the year 2100 managed by a small class of aviators and
engineers. !? The workers, still miserable and exploited, rise up against
the aeronauts and their ruthless leader Ostrog, and in a scene that now
seems amusingly old-fashioned, battle the ‘‘aeroplanes” to the death.
The plot is a cross between science fiction and Marx. Wells, the first
professional futurologist struggling with the social implications of ad:
vanced technology, experimented with numerous such schemes in his
fiction. Without exception, his works tend toward the same political
conclusion: that the conditions of the modern age would require rule
by a relatively small, cohesive group of highly trained technicians. While
he feared the evil this kind of government might bring to the world, he
eventually came to believe that the inevitable development would also
be a blessing. The final reconciliation came in his book A Modern
Utopia. 18 Here we find a society in which the ruling class is entirely
benevolent and is no longer defined by its attachment to a particular
kind of machinery. The “samurai” are a well-rounded, intelligent, self-
selected, ascetic class of managers educated in all of the skills required
to run a scientific society. The condition produced is a kind of social
euphoria, a pallid perfection. Wells’s utopia is self-consciously modeled
on Plato’s Republic and Thomas More’s Utopia. The samurai are
actually Platonic guardians who have seen the Forms, not of Justice or
the Good but the forms of efficiency and technical order.

In addition to the stream of fictional utopias, there have been a
number of straightforward works leading the cheers for the extraor-

Technocracy 143

dinarily gifted children produced in the womb of modern technique.
F. W. Taylor’s Principles of Scientific Management is, among other
things, an argument in justification of a new class of managers, which
Taylor believed indispensable to all twentieth-century industry.19 A
more recent panegyric, Robert Boguslaw’s The New Utopians, serves a
similar role for the systems analysts, although under the guise of warn-
ing the public about the possible dangers of such people. In techno-
cratic writings, a stern warning is often a rhetorical style to mask whole-
hearted endorsement, for indications of new power carry much weight,
while halfhearted bemoaning of moral dilemmas falls flat.20
At least as interesting as the matter of who belongs to the technical
elite is the question of who does not belong. The literature contains
occasional purges within the pantheon, with some esteemed members
finding themselves cast out. Saint-Simon’s conclusion that “the indus-
trial class is bound to continue its progress and finally to dominate the
whole community”?! was not one that Thorstein Veblen could endorse
a few decades later. Veblen held that the progress of the modern system
of industrial production had reached a point at which it no longer con-
tained any crucial function for the men formerly most important in the
building of that system—the ‘‘captains of industry,” businessmen and
financiers. Because such men were addicted to “‘a strict and unremitting
valuation of all things in terms of price and profit,” 22 they were in-
herently unable “‘to appreciate those technological facts and values that
can be formulated in terms of tangible mechanical performance.” 23
The interests of the old industrial governing class caused it to run the
industrial system at a low level of output and efficiency. Society as a
whole paid the price for this selfish manipulation, for it was deprived of
the full product of industrial technology. Veblen felt no qualms about
labeling the activity of the business elite deliberate ‘‘sabotage.” “‘The
cares of business have required an increasingly undivided attention on
the part of business men, and in ever increasing measure their day’s
work has come to center about a running adjustment of sabotage of
production.” 24 In complicity with this disgraceful practice were the
politicians, working on both a national and international scale to direct

Autonomous Technology 144

the riches of the productive network to the “‘vested interests.” “So it
happens,” vhe explained, ‘that the industrial system is deliberately
handicapped with dissension, misdirection, and unemployment of ma-
terial resources, equipment, and man power, at every turn where the
statesmen or the captains of finance can touch its mechanism.” 25

By any standard of intelligence or justice, Veblen believed, the true
rulers of modern industrial society ought to be the technicians directly
responsible for the efficient running of the machine. The engineers were
actually in control anyway. It was high time to recognize their impor-
tance and to free them from the sabotage from above, which prevented

their full efficiency.

In more respects than one the industrial system of today is notably dif-
ferent from anything that has gone before. It is eminently a system,
self-balanced and comprehensive; and it is a system of interlocking
mechanical processes, rather than of skillful manipulation. It is an or-
ganization of mechanical powers and material resources, rather than of
skilled craftsmen and tools; although the skilled workmen and tools are
also an indispensable part of its comprehensive mechanism. It is of an
impersonal nature, after the fashion of the material sciences, on which
it constantly draws. It runs to “quantity production” of specialized and
standardized goods and services. For all these reasons it lends itself to
systematic control under the direction of industrial experts, skilled
technologists, who may be called “‘production engineers,” for want of a

better term.26

Veblen lamented the fact that the class of engineers had not yet
achieved full consciousness of its role and potential power. They were
not organized to seize control from the captains of industry and, there-
fore, ‘‘under existing circumstances there need be no fear, and no hope,
of an effectual revolutionary overturn in America, such as would un-
settle the established order and unseat-the Vested Interests.”2” At the
same time, Veblen thought it impossible that the practice of sabotage
could continue forever. Eventually the close interconnection and inter-
dependence of the evolving industrial system would make such jamming
and tampering the source of a crisis that would “bring the whole to a
fatal collapse.” 28 He hoped that before that day arrived, the noble en-

Technocracy 145

gineers would come together around a common plan of action, possibly
a general strike, and assume the position of power and authority they
deserved.

But whatever changes occur in the ideal membership of the techni-
cal elite, there is always one group excluded from the list—the great
mass of men in society. Most persons, it is asserted, simply lack the
knowledge or credentials to participate in the government of a techno-
logical society. The technocrats rule because no one else is capable. In
the last pages of The Decline of the West, Oswald Spengler emphasizes
this side of the technocratic argument, calling attention to implications
that Veblen had no doubt noticed but played down. ‘‘The peasant, the
hand-worker, even the merchant,” he writes, ‘‘appear suddenly as ines-
sential in comparison with the three great figures that the Machine has
bred and trained-up in the cause of its development: the entrepreneur,
the engineer, and the factory-worker.”29 But two of these “figures”
have already been obscured by ‘‘a mighty tree that casts its shadow over
all the other vocations—namely, the economy of the machine industry.
It forces the entrepreneur not less than the workman to obedience.
Both become slaves, and not masters of the machine, that now for the
first time develops its devilish and occult power.” 30

But there is still one man, Spengler contends, with sufficient knowl-
edge and skill to handle this new power. He alone is able to rise above
the common ignorance and the “‘conflict of politics” to become ruler of
a mechanical civilization. ‘“Not merely the importance, but the very
existence of industry depends upon the existence of the hundred thou-
sand talented, rigorously schooled brains that command the technique
and develop it onward and onward. The quiet engineer it is who is the
machine’s master and destiny.” 31 In a later work, Man and Technics,
Spengler is even more definite about the authoritarian implications of
the gap between the technically proficient engineers and benighted
masses. This is, he explains, merely the newest instance of an age-old
relationship between rulers and the ruled. ‘‘As in every process there is
a technique of direction and a technique of execution, so, equally self-
evidently, there are men whose nature is to command and men whose

Autonomous Technology 146

nature is to obey, subjects and objects of the political or economic
process in question. ?32 Technocratic rule was for Spengler the last
gasp of a culture entering the advanced stages of decay. His call to the
heroic engineer was actually a dirge sung very loudly.?3 It was to this
song that Albert Speer responded, bringing with him the Spenglerian-
technocratic elements of nazism.

Technocracy and Liberalism

If Bacon, Saint-Simon, Veblen, Spengler, and others are correct, rule by
technically trained experts is the only kind of government appropriate
to a social system based on advanced science and technology. Technoc-
racy in some form or other is the inevitable, rightful heir to all varieties
of politics. In the following paragraphs I want to examine the implica-
tions of this view for liberalism. A later chapter will consider somewhat
similar problems in a Marxist context.

A matter of theory, technocracy’s challenge to liberalism is simple
and direct. Its premises are totally incompatible with a central notion
that justifies the practice of liberal politics: the idea of responsible,
responsive, representative government. In the technocratic understand-
ing, the real activity of governing can have no place for participation by
the masses of men. All of the crucial decisions to be made, plans to be
formulated, and actions to be taken are simply beyond their compre-
hension. Confusion and disorder would result if a democratic populace
had a direct voice in determining the course the system would follow.
Science and technics, in their own workings and in their utility for the
polity, are not democratic, dealing as they do with truth on the one
hand and optimal technical solutions on the other.

This still leaves open the possibility that the populace could voice
its desire for the goals and kind of distribution that a system run by
experts would obtain. Voting would reflect the wishes of the people,
which could then be enacted in the technically best way. But at least in
the formulations we have seen so far, this is not at all the way that
theorists of technocracy have seen the matter. They consider the ac-
complishments of the new technology so obvious and marvelous that

Technocracy 147

they expect the public to receive them willingly and without asking
questions or making demands. Why preprogram cornucopia? The tech-
nocrats, being human themselves, understand man’s basic needs. They
do not need to be reminded of them. In a world being transformed and
made better through new devices and techniques, the voice of the
public can only be a kind of ignorant carping.

For liberal politics this is an unacceptable position, guaranteeing
neither good government nor safety. What is required is some means of
representation to make certain that the wishes of the public are fol-
lowed and the power of the experts limited. Where the populace as a
whole may not be capable of dealing with the complexities of new tech-
nical systems and the kinds of knowledge and decision they require,
their representatives will be able to master this field and maintain
liberal democratic government. The technocratic response would be
that this notion of representation is a pipe dream dreamed by those
whose pipes are already clogged. Delegates of popular will must inevita-
bly meet the same fate as the populace itself—functional irrelevance.
The elected spokesmen may still be present and voting, pretending to
legislate the goals of the system and acting as if they exercised a final
check on what is done and how. They are entitled to this kind of enter-
tainment. But its efficacy is, at best, very limited, for the knowledge,
power, and authority of the traditional politician are not actually
necessary to make the system run. Political office becomes a collec-
tor’s item, a glorious antique.

It is time to ask about the reality these ideas describe. How well do
actual cases match the speculation?

There is a standard means of inquiry available to us. Taking the
works cited above as examples, technocratic writing can be shown to be
a subcategory of an important branch of modern political thought and
social science: the theory of elites. Investigations begun by Vilfredo
Pareto, Gaetano Mosca, and Robert Michels and continued more re-
cently by C. Wright Mills, Floyd Hunter, G. William Domhoff, and
innumerable political scientists have sought to identify the conditions
under which elites do or do not exercise political influence, the rela-

Autonomous Technology 148

tionships elites have to other social strata, and the conflicts among com-
peting elites. 34 I shall not enter into the details of this now-complicated
discussion but merely observe that technocratic writings point to one
possible group that fits Pareto’s original definition of a governing elite,
‘fndividuals who directly or indirectly play some considerable part in
government.” 25 This is exactly what Bacon, Wells, Veblen, Burnham,
and others have pointed to and precisely what Dwight D. Eisenhower
meant when he spoke of the “danger that public policy could itself be-
come the captive of a scientific technological elite.” 36

In their research, political scientists examine a number of signs to
determine whether an elite is present and active in a given situation.
Members of the elite have (1) similar social backgrounds, (2) a common
ideology, (3) a desire for generalized power, (4) the ability to communi-
cate with other members and to act in a unified manner, and (5) direct
access to positions of command in society. An elite, in other words, is
usually defined as a cohesive social group which intentionally seeks
political power.

Without laboring the point, social scientists have been unable to find
a technocratic elite to match anything like this description in any exist-
ing liberal democratic society. Looking at the persons who might have
been material for a Baconian or Veblenian ruling class—scientists,
technicians, technologists, industrial managers, bureaucrats, and the like
—one does find varying degrees of access to and use of political
power.3” Holders of expert knowledge are found actively engaged in
many. kinds of planning, advising, administrating, decision making,
and lobbying. 38 And it is commonly noted that persons of this sort do
have an influence in political affairs disproportionate to their relatively
small number. Nevertheless, in terms of the categories used to judge
political elites, men of scientific and technical expertise do not fit
the model. They do not share a common social position, uniform ideo-
logy, or any sort of ruling class consciousness. They neither have nor
perceive the need for solidarity and do not behave as a cohesive, power-
seeking group. The idea that they might want generalized social or poli-
tical power seems entirely foreign to them. On the contrary, the con-

Technocracy 149

cerns of such people are tied to their specific professions. They do
organize and pursue their interests within the professional setting, and
often this means that they involve themselves in the political sphere,
but their activities here are limited and usually highly specific. Far from
wanting to govern, they provide services, command a price, and leave
the rest alone.29

All of this has been studied in considerable depth by political scien-
tists. In the United States the spotlight fell primarily upon the com-
munity of scientists and its post-World War II influence. In France the
discussion centered directly upon the “technocrats,” all technically
trained persons in or near positions of political power. Scholars in both
countries paid attention to the possibility of indirect as well as direct
influence by scientific and technical elites. The standard conclusion was
(and still is) that none of the kinds of people identified as possible can-
didates for a technocratic ruling stratum actually form a cohesive, uni-
fied elite to interfere with the workings of liberal democratic govern-
ment. Victor Ferkiss writes, ‘“‘The scientific estate is now one among
many in a pluralistic struggle for individual and group power, and far
from the strongest.” 40 Jean Meynaud concludes, “‘Technocracy has not
managed to gain a completely preponderant control of government
action in any contemporary regime, supposing that this is in fact the
true wish of technicians.” 4!

If one expects to find technocracy in the sense described in the early
writings in this lineage, one will be disappointed. In the American ex-
perience nothing symbolizes its nonexistence better than the tragic-
comic history of Howard Scott’s Technocracy Inc. Largely founded on
the ideas of Veblen in Engineers and the Price System, the technocratic
movement aimed at reorganizing the whole American economy accord-
ing to a comprehensive master plan implemented by the best techni-
cians, a plan that would increase productivity to a new high and guaran-
tee abundance for everyone. But the ideas and grand symbol of the
movement-—the red and silver, yin and yang “‘Monad”’—never caught on.
Its caravans of uniform gray automobiles carrying hundreds of gray-
suited men made coast-to-coast treks to publicize the goals of Technoc-

Autonomous Technology 150

racy Inc. But other than some enthusiastic support in such political
centers as Pismo Beach, California, in the 1930s and 1940s, the whole
thing was ignored by the public and, much worse, by the noble tech-
nicians themselves. In its best moments Technocracy Inc. was an organi-
zation of crackpots; in its worst, an inept swindle.*2

But the failure of technocracy in one definition—the definition sug-
gested by the theory of elites—does not mean that the power and posi-
tion of technically trained persons in political life ceases to be a prob-
lem. That there is apparently little solidarity or common purpose
among such persons does not in itself speak to the issues raised above
about participation, representation, or limited government. It merely
denies one possible way that technology and political power might be
connected. The elite conception of technocracy is, it seems to me, a
good example of a case in which “‘a picture held us captive.’”’43 The
idea here is that of a cohesive group based on the knowledge it holds
rising to power and authority. In science fiction and political theory
both, there is a tendency to dramatize the upward thrust, hence the

29 66 29 66

titles ‘‘new brahmins,” “new mandarins,” ‘‘new priesthood,” and “new
utopians.”” And if one sees society in terms of strata or class levels,
the strongest being on “top” and the weakest at the ‘‘bottom,” then
one begins to expect that those who hold new social power will move
“upward” and like mountain climbers at the top of Everest be some-
how visible up there.

But this conception is much too simple. Contemporary students of
politics, including those interested in the relationships between science,
technology, and political power, have had to deal with a much more
intricate situation. They have now recognized that there is a multi-
plicity of kinds of persons who hold power and that accompanying this
is a relatively wide diffusion of power within the political system. In
mentioning this, I do not wish to affirm the branch of normative poli-
tical philosophy known as pluralism. The pluralist looks at social diver-
sity and the balancing of interest group pressures and concludes that he
has discovered democracy. In the multiplicity of power holders and dif-

fusion of power he sees signs that the republic is in fine fettle. But as

Technocracy 151

critics of pluralism have argued, this is a drastically crippled notion of
democratic politics, leaving as it does questions of equality and parti-
cipation out of the picture.

No, in citing this condition of multiplicity and diffusion I am merely
noticing something that most social scientists, even the proponents of
the ‘power elite’? thesis, now admit: that one who looks for power in

society does not find a single, homogeneous group at the “top.744

Awareness of this state of affairs has influenced a body of mid-
twentieth-century writing—perhaps one could call it revisionist techno-
cratic theory—which attempts to redefine the relationships between
technical expertise and political power and authority. I want to con-
sider briefly two of the best thought out of these new statements: Don
K. Price’s discussion of the scientific estate and John Kenneth Gal-
braith’s description of the technostructure. We shall see that while the
problem is not as clear-cut as it was formerly conceived, technocracy is
still a source of considerable vexation for liberal politics.

The Scientific Estate responds to what Don Price perceives to be a
profound dilemma for the American constitutional system. The rise of
science and scientific technology in the nineteenth and twentieth
centuries has, he believes, altered the basic rules and procedures of U.S.
government established at the time of the founding. In particular, there
have been three developments that make “our traditional reactions—
our automatic political reflexes—unreliable in dealing with our present
problems.” 45 The scientific revolution has (1) moved the public and
private sectors closer together, (2) brought a new order of complexity
to the administration of public affairs, and (3) upset our system of
checks and balances in government. Price’s concern with this state of
affairs moves in two directions. Like Kant, who wished to save morality
from the rule of science and science from the rule of morality, Price
thinks it imperative that politics and science be maintained as distinctly
separate kinds of activity. The new threat to politics, he suggests, is
that scientists might take their admittedly powerful ways of knowing
and acting and use them to establish supremacy over traditional politi-
cal institutions. The danger to science, on the other hand, is that poli-

Autonomous Technology 152

tics will too strongly assert its governing function and attempt to inter-
fere in the quest for scientific truth. Price holds that, as a matter of
fact, a new sort of constitutional system is evolving to handle the rela-
tionship of established legal authority and the scientific professions.
The principles of the new American constitution are set forth for the
first time in his book.

The genesis of the system takes place in a national environment in
which there has been a fusion of economic and political power. This is
a conclusion that Price shares with many students of the post-World
War II relationship of business and government. In those sectors of the
economy involving large, sophisticated scientific technologies, the
boundary between private industry and government has become in-
creasingly indistinct, in some cases virtually nonexistent. Price portrays
this matter in as benign a light as possible, for he is certain that both
government and highly technicized business are inherently responsible,
benevolent actors. “Today, our national policy assumes that a great
deal of our new enterprise is likely to follow from technological de-
velopments financed by the government and directed in response to
government policy; and many of our most dynamic industries are
largely or entirely dependent on doing business with the government
through a subordinate relationship that has little resemblance to the
traditional market.’46 This is the realm of “big” science and tech-
nology, heavily financed by federal tax money, characterized by multi-
million dollar contracts, best illustrated, as Price points out, by the
development of weapons systems for the nuclear-aerospace age. “‘The
very uncertainty of the research and development process requires the
government and business to work out a joint arrangement for the plan-
ning and conduct of their programs; the relationship is more like the
administrative relationship between an industrial corporation and its
subsidiary than the traditional relationship of buyer and seller in a free
market.”*7 Price holds this to be an indelible fact of modern life with
which it would be petty to quibble. ‘In the modern industrial world,”
he says, ‘“‘there is no way to keep government and business from being

Technocracy 153

dependent on each other.’”48 By helping to bring about the “blurring
of boundaries,” science has actually “changed the nature of proper-
ty.749 Price concludes: ‘‘In short, we are now obliged to think about
the political functions of various types of people not on the basis of
the property they own but of what they know, and of the professional
skills they command.”59 Here we find a revival of one of the premises
of traditional technocratic theory: the supremacy of knowledge over
property and the eclipse of traditional capitalism on this account.
Along with Robert Heilbroner, Daniel Bell, and others, Price has ob-
served and seeks to justify this state of affairs. Such findings are in-
variably offered as new and unprecedented insights, as if the renegade,
discredited Veblen had never set pen to paper.2!

The fusion of economic and political power is accompanied by an
equally significant development which Price labels a diffusion of sov-
ereignty. No longer does sovereign authority rest solely with the legis-
lative and executive branches of government or with the political par-
ties that control them. Instead, the ‘“‘process of responsible policy mak-
ing ...is a process of interaction among the scientists, professional
leaders, administrators and politicians; ultimate authority is with the
politicians but the initiative is quite likely to rest with others, including
scientists in or out of government.” 52 This interaction of different
kinds of policy makers is what Price means when he speaks of the new
order of complexity which has overtaken public affairs. The authority
to make policy and to act is now much more spread out than previ-
ously. It involves many more occupational and professional groups with
many more kinds of relationships than are spelled out in the written
Constitution. This new web of governmental connections and associa-
tions took shape in response to specific historical circumstances during
the last several decades, the most important of which are a function of
the power and utility of modern scientific technology.

The task of Price’s theory is to delineate the general principles upon
which the ‘‘unwritten constitution” brought to America by the scien-
tific revolution now operates. How does the new system of power and

Autonomous Technology 154

authority work? Is it as it ought to be? In specific, Price wants to know
whether it retains the quality of good, responsible, representative
democracy.

Price continues by spelling out the fundamental divisions within the
new order of diffuse sovereignty. There are, he maintains, four func-
tional groups within the system with different spheres of interest, dif-
ferent kinds of expertise, and different sorts of legitimacy. Employing
a notion from constitutional theory of the Middle Ages rather than that
of the American experience, he suggests that these groups are best
thought of as “estates.” There is the political estate consisting of
elected political leaders, endowed with traditional legal authority;
this is the estate most directly responsible to the public. Then there is
the administrative estate comprising the managers and administrators in
both government and private corporations. A member of this group
“tis obliged to deal with all aspects of the concrete problems that his
organization faces” and “‘must be prepared to use a wide variety of pro-
fessional expertise and scholarly disciplines, as he helps his political
superiors (or the directors of a business corporation) attain their general
purposes.”53 Next is the professional estate, the estate most properly
called technological in the sense that I have been using here. This estate
is composed of the organized professions—Price cites engineering and
medicine as examples—and deals with the practical application of scien-
tific knowledge. The responsibility of a professional ‘“‘to an individual
client or to a corporate or governmental employer, is to serve within a
definite and limited field; within that field, the professional has an obli-
gation to standards of ethics and competence that his profession, not
his employer, dictates.’”54 Finally, there is a scientific estate, composed
of scientists in the university, the corporations, and government, doing
pure research on the frontiers of knowledge. Their responsiblitiy is to
the truth as pursued by the best methods and judged by the highest
standards of the scientific disciplines.

The four estates are the approximate equivalent of the three
branches of government of yore. Price notes that the lines that divide
the estates are by no means hard and fast. ‘“‘Every person, in his actual

Technocracy 155

work, is concerned to some extent with all four functions.” 55 Politi-
cians sometimes have an interest in and a knowledge of science, for
example. “The four broad functions in government and public affairs—
the scientific, the professional, the administrative, and the political—
are by no means sharply distinguished from one another even in theory,
but fall along a gradation or spectrum within our political system. At
one end of the spectrum, pure science is concerned with knowledge and
truth; at the other end, pure politics is concerned with power and
action,’”56

It is from this idea of a spectrum from truth to power that Price
derives an ideal of good government appropriate to the times. He
announces the following principle: ‘‘(1) The closer the estate is to the
end of the spectrum that is concerned with truth, the more it is entitled
to freedom and self-government; and (2) the closer it gets to the exer-
cise of power, the less it is permitted to organize itself as a corporate
entity, and the more it is required to submit to the test of political
responsibility, in the sense of submitting to the ultimate decision of the
electorate.”°” This is the preamble of Price’s unwritten constitution.
The occasion is not that of a new founding, for the arrangement that
this principle helps us to evaluate has grown in bits and pieces over
many years. It did not originate in anyone’s design. Nevertheless, Price
is the Madison of the new system. He wishes to describe the workings
of its mechanism and determine its worth. Thus, the question becomes,
How well does the principle of the spectrum from truth to power
actually turn out in practice? Does it account for what actually takes
place?

As Bernard Crick pointed out long ago, the distance between the
ideal and the actual in political scientists’ views of American politics is
never very great.08 In Price’s case there is no distance whatsoever. The
spectrum principle describes the existing state of affairs exactly! The
scientists are provided with the freedom and self-government necessary
for their work, but they do not exercise any direct political authority
or power. The politicians are still held responsible by the electorate;
they do not have complete freedom in their work but are able to exer-

Autonomous Technology 156

cise political power. The professionals and administrators have a mix of
freedom and responsibility appropriate to their positions. The admini-
strative estate exercises a greater degree of power as compared to the
professional estate, while the professionals have more independence as
befits their role as the practitioners of applied science.

But even more significant for this neat division of responsible power
and autonomous truth is the fact that the system comes equipped with
a built-in set of checks and balances. The new Madisonian model takes
up where the old one left off. The four estates are independent in some
ways and mutually interdependent in others. Each protects its own in-
terests with determined vigor, yet each must rely on the other three for
its successful functioning. The estates must work together. They do in
fact curb each other’s excesses. And they must occasionally cross the
recognized lines of functional separation to make sure that their ends
are properly regarded by the others. “The scientists and professionals,
in order to do their jobs,” Price observes, ‘‘must be involved in the
formulation of policy, and must be granted wide discretion in their
own work.”59 “Politicians and administrators must control the key
aspects of technological plans if they are to protect their own ability to
make responsible decisions.”®9 Price illustrates with a number of
examples taken from the recent history of American government-
science relations. An effective system of checks and balances has in fact
been established, and a new “pluralist consensus” has grown up around
them.®! It could not have been better if it had been planned.

As we behold the new American Republic and marvel at its intricate
equilibrium, we should note that Price’s scholarship is by all accounts
basically sound and his evidence accurate. The Scientific Estate is far
and away the strongest work in the existing literature on science and
politics and is fully in accord with the best research on the subject.
From all reports, it is apparently useful to those who work in the cir-
cumstances the book describes. It helps members of the four estates to
understand what they have been doing all of these years and to know
their way about, especially their way about Washington, D.C. In this

respect the book is of considerable value.

Technocracy 157

There are, nonetheless, some crucial problems in Price’s model of
politics. He wishes to show that we have been rescued from the rule
of “faceless technocrats’ by the fortuitous rise of a new pluralism.®2
In this way liberal representative democracy has been saved from pos-
sible destruction at the hands of the scientific revolution. But one
wants to ask, Exactly who has been saved and how? What is included in
this idea of political life and what is conspicuously missing? If Price’s
evaluations are at all correct, it would seem that liberal democracy has
won, at best, a noticeably pyrrhic victory.

The strength of the new system, Price tells us,:rests on its infor-
mality. It does not depend, as the Madisonian mechanism did, on pre-
cisely delimited powers and boundaries. If one were James Madison,
one might worry over the fact that two of the estates, the professional
and the scientific, exist completely outside the boundaries that the
document of 1787 so carefully engineered. But Price assures us that all
is well. ‘‘We have been establishing new kinds of checks and balances
within the governmental system that depend on no legal provisions, but
on a respect for scientific truth and professional expertise.” 63 The new
setup succeeds because the various actors and estates have different
kinds of knowledge and respect each other’s ways of knowing.

If this is so and if we are prepared to forget about legal safeguards
on its account, a relevant question would still be whether the estates are
equal in the kinds of knowledge they have. This is a critical matter
when one thinks about the role of the political estate. What sort of spe-
cial knowledge or expertise do the politicians command? Is there a
distinctive political knowledge relevant to the new system? Traditional
technocratic theories argued that politics had nothing of substance to
contribute to a society based on expert scientific practice. As we saw in
the New Atlantis, the political function was to become mere ritual gloss

on the real business of governing the polity. If there are kinds of knowl-
edge and knowledge holders more potent than others in the system
Price describes, then the supposed informal checking and balancing

might well go out of kilter.
The world Price describes runs almost exclusively on the knowledge

Autonomous Technology 158

of science and the facility of technology. The political estate is basically
an occupational-functional group like the other three, but it is distin-
guished by the fact that it has nothing (or very little) to contribute to
the realm of productive knowledge. If the politician wants to become
relevant to the new order of things he or she must find out what the
other estates are doing well enough to have a rank amateur’s view of
things. Much of the last part of the book tries to find adequate ways to
keep the president and Congress “advised” in this regard. 4 Price some-
times speaks of the politicians as if they ought to be something like
expert technicians of the political sphere. If this were true, it would no
doubt earn the politicians the respect among equal colleagues upon
which the unwritten constitution rests. But as Price makes abundantly
clear, the whole political realm, especially as it must consider the new
world of science, is characterized by a pervasive and embarrassing con-
dition of ignorance.

Signs of Price’s view here can be seen in his description of the or-
dinary citizen and his representatives. The common man, he states, used
to be a radical force on the American political scene. He was a demo-
crat, an activist, a reformer. But now things have changed. The true
radicals in the nation are the scientists and professionals.®° It is their
work that brings about rapid technological change and social progress.
They are the ones who have toppled the established order (quietly and
politely) and built a new variety of politics. At the same time, the
democratic radicalism of America’s past has retreated into mass apathy.
“The common man,” Price writes, ‘is far less radical than the profes-
sions in what he demands of society; he is likely to prefer to be left
alone in his traditional way of life, provided, of course, that technology
can supply him with tranquilizers and television, the contemporary
version of bread and circuses.”®§ In a way that Spengler would have
appreciated, the common man is dwarfed by the developments in scien-
tific technics. He cannot participate in the governance of the new
system because he is incapable of comprehending the information
necessary to participate. His elected representatives are not much better
off; they too are baffled by the mysteries of scientific society. The

Technocracy 159

ordinary citizen, Price concludes, ‘“‘cannot understand science, and is
not in the habit of electing representatives who know any more about
it than he does.” 67
In the end, the system of government Price describes is not one that
encourages or expects citizen participation, not one that relies upon
any effective representative process, not one that includes much of a
role for traditional politics at all. His checks-and-balances argument,
heralded as a way of salvaging representative democracy, is actually a
way of showing why it is unnecessary to worry about such things. At
the higher levels where the important policies are made and carried out,
government takes place through interdependent, self-limiting collegia of
expert knowledge holders. The political estate still plays a part—one
part in four—in this process, serving as a vestigial remnant of a system
of power and authority eroded by the winds of change. This estate, un-
like the others, is responsible to the electorate. And a portion of its job
is to speak for the public interest, for example, to indicate which tran-
quilizers and television programs are currently in favor. But Price is
careful not to argue that good government is brought about by an
aroused public working through diligent representatives. No; that would
upset the delicate balance. The examples he gives do not show politi-
cians striving to direct the products of science to ends that have arisen
from debate and conflict in the public sphere. The picture is, instead,
that of intimate interestate cooperation about matters that involve little
disagreement. The role of the politician is to work closely with those
who know what they are doing in their own specialized fields. While
Price likes to call this a system of checks and balances, it is better
thought of as a kind of friendly bargaining on the highest level among
persons whose ends are basically in accord.

Price does not believe that this arrangement needs reform. When he
does suggest improvements, they amount to a refinement of the com-
munications among the estates. In particular, the president, his staff,
and the Congress need to be better informed so that the political
estate can better fulfill its collegial function. From the public he asks
only that it understand and approve the new system of governance and

Autonomous Technology 160

not be concerned that things no longer work according to the tradi-
tional design. And even though his argument points to the fact that the
general public has not the foggiest notion of the new constitution, he
assures us that the public does approve of the new lines of jurisdic-
tion.8 Ignorance is the foundation of the new legitimacy.

If Madison were to examine this new arrangement, he would proba-
bly not be annoyed by the feeble character of participation and repre-
sentation in the model. His design for a republic outlined in The Feder-
alist Papers did not place much confidence in an active citizenry any-
way. He might even congratulate Price for preserving at least that much
of the founders’ original vision of politics. It is possible, however, that
Madison would be concerned with the safety of the kinds of divisions,
checks, and balances that occur in his successor’s theory. Are Price’s
safeguards sufficient to prevent the flagrant abuse of power or to
neutralize the threat of “factions”? “adverse to the rights of other
citizens, or to the permanent and aggregate interests of the com-
munity,” which Madison feared most?

A peculiarity of Price’s discussion is that while it raises the problem
of the fusion of economic and political power, nothing in the model of
government he develops speaks to that issue. This fusion, remember, is
the direct outgrowth of necessities of planning and coordination
ushered in by scientific technology. Government and the large corpora-
tions must work hand in hand in order to finance and manage large-
scale technological systems. Thus, the boundary between public and
private breaks down (and Madison’s brow begins to furrow). The thrust
of Price’s later argument leaves this condition alone. His forte is to un-
ravel and set right the “diffusion of sovereignty” issue. He describes,
explains, and justifies the relationships of power and authority exist-
ing between the four estates; his success is to illuminate this state of
affairs for those actually involved in it and for those with an academic
fascination with the matter. But the condition of “fusion” is taken as
given and in the nature of things. After the second chapter of the book
it is not subject to further scrutiny. His view is apparently that since

Technocracy 161

“in the modern world there is no way to keep government and busi-
ness from being dependent on each other,” why worry about it?

A growing body of literature documents the concentration and
astounding abuse of power in the high technology networks which bind
together government agencies and certain large American corporations.
The writings of H. L. Nieburg, Seymour Melman, Ralph Lapp, Richard
Barnett, and others®9 identify a general condition in which the four
estates—that is, congressional committees; government administrators;
corporation managers, scientists, and engineers in and out of govern-
ment; and others in the strata Price describes—work together to channel
billions of tax dollars to military and aerospace research, development,
and implementation projects which smack of narrow self-interest, self-
perpetuation, and waste. In Nieburg’s words, ‘‘The R & D cult is be-
coming a sheltered inner society isolated from the mainstream of na-
tional needs. More and more it departs from the reality principles of
social accounting, insulated against realism by the nature of its contract
relations with government and its political influence.”70 Far from
being checked and balanced by its own internal workings, this system
scrupulously avoids such limits and, in Nieburg’s opinion, has the effect
of “eroding the foundation of democratic pluralism.” 7! “The open-
end, cost-plus nature of the contract instrument, the lack of product
specifications, official tolerance of spending overruns, all of which
increase the total contract and fee (in a sense rewarding wasteful
practices and unnecessary technical complication), permit violation of
all rules of responsible control and make possible multiple tiers of
hidden profits.” 72

I shall not dwell on these matters further but merely point out that
Price begins his analysis of political power after a great deal of the
available power has already been meted out and the possible problems
associated with it simply dismissed. Price concedes a great deal to the
megatechnical corporate-government alliance; then he begins his effort
to rescue representative democracy. One cannot help feeling that in the
political game Price describes, democracy plays only at halftime.

Autonomous Technology 162

Echoes of his unfortunate approach recur throughout his analysis. For
instance, he occasionally speaks as if the upper-level directors of busi-
ness corporations are actually members of the political estate. Indeed,
using the estate model, this is probably an accurate identification.
Summarizing the full “division of power” 73 in the new system, he lists
“the new estates of the scientific era, as well as branches of govern-
ment and business corporations.” /4 Price calls our attention to ‘‘anew
kind of autonomy at many points within the vast complex of mixed
government-business interests.” 75 But he does not begin to criticize the
nature of this autonomy.

Another important statement of a contemporary technocratic vision
is found in the writings of John Kenneth Galbraith. Much more aware
of the political implications of his argument than Price, Galbraith traces
the rise of a newly emergent technical stratum located in the large,
technically sophisticated corporations of our time. He is concerned that
the existence of this stratum places in jeopardy the ability of modern
society to guide its affairs through the application of widely held, posi-
tive social values. Where Veblen shifted the emphasis from entrepreneur
to engineer and Burnham shifted it from engineer to manager, Gal-
braith insists that the focus of power and authority has moved once
again. It no longer makes sense to talk about the rule of the mana-
gerial elite or of managerialism because the term manager takes in ‘‘only
a small proportion of those who, as participants, contribute informa-
tion to group decisions.” 76 “This latter group,” he explains, “‘is very
large; it extends from the most senior officials of the corporation to
where it meets, at the outer perimeter, the white and blue collar work-
ers whose function is to conform more or less mechanically to in-
struction or routine. It embraces all who bring specialized knowledge,
talent or experience to group decision-making. This, not the manage-
ment, is the guiding intelligence—the brain—of the enterprise. There is
no name for all who participate in the group decision-making or the
organization which they form. I propose to call this organization the

Technostructure.” 77

Technocracy 163

As I noted earlier, Galbraith holds that there are ‘‘imperatives of
technology” that impose a definite shape upon modern industrial prac-
tice. Sophisticated technologies (I) increase the time separating the
beginning of a task to its completion, (2) require great amounts of capi-
tal, (3) bring an inflexible commitment of resources, (4) require special-
ized manpower, and (5) require highly developed organization.78
Navigation amid these imperatives is the meétier of the technostructure.
Foremost among the requirements of the industrial system, Galbraith
argues, is the need for planning. ‘Conditions at the time of the com-
pletion of the whole task must be foreseen as must developments along
the way. And steps must be taken to prevent, offset or otherwise neu-
tralize the effect of adverse developments, and to insure that what is
ultimately foreseen eventuates in fact.”79 The ability to plan, there-
fore, combines accurate foresight and adequate control. In the early
history of industrial society, it was possible for the individual entre-
preneur to handle his own information processing and planning. But
under mid-twentieth-century conditions, that role can be successfully
done only by technically trained collegia. Galbraith cites the example
of Henry Ford in the 1940s as an illustration of the disastrous conse-
quences that result from any attempt to retain autocratic, entrepre-
neurial control. Thus, an “organized intelligence”’ is the sine qua non
of modern corporate planning and performance.

From his explanation linking technological imperatives, planning,
and the necessity for group decision-making, Galbraith argues that the
fundamental goal of the technostructure is to achieve autonomy. This,
he asserts, is fully borne out in many observed cases in corporate life.
The technostructure seeks to ensure its survival, protect its indepen-
dence, and maintain control over those variables involved in its work.
Both within the corporation and in all relevant areas of its economic
and social environment, the technostructure moves to overcome all
circumstances of interference, uncertainty, or limitation relevant to
its activities. By maintaining an acceptable (but not maximum) level
of profits for the firm, the technostructure guarantees its independence

Autonomous Technology 164

from the corporate owners, the diffuse and disorganized stockholders.
Through a variety of means it controls both supply and demand and
thereby eliminates the sordid perils of the market system.

Galbraith locates the basis of his autonomous technostructure in the
autonomy of technical factors. Hence, persons involved in the quest
for independence and control are not particularly power hungry. They
harbor none of the base motives of tyrants or despots; very little of
their thinking and behavior has anything to do with building a self-
contained, self-conscious ruling class. Instead, their drive for power
comes almost exclusively from a recognition of the necessities of
effective performance in a world of advanced technology. They have
seen the printout on the wall. If the technostructure of corporation
X does not act creatively within the context set by technological im-
peratives, then a similar decision-making group in corporation Y or Z
certainly will. The conduct of any particular instance of “organized
intelligence” is simply that which any such intelligence, similarly pre-
pared, would follow under the same circumstances.

Traditional kinds of economic competition are often excluded from
this new arrangement. But competitiveness of a different style—the
quest to devise the most effective arrangement of the given technical-
economic ensemble—is still present. In this context, motives formerly
associated with competition are radically altered. No longer do we find,
according to Galbraith, capitalist entrepreneurs striving for ever higher
profits or trying to force competitors out of business. The will of the
technostructure consists of a strong desire to ensure that the organiza-
tion succeeds, that individual positions in the organization are en-
hanced, that there is a respectable level of growth in corporate opera-
tions, and that progress be made in fine points of technical virtuosity.80
Often this means that similarly trained persons in the technostructures
of different firms will cooperate in ways that enhance the effective
technical arrangement of a particular branch of industry as a whole,
while denying the old-fashioned mechanisms of capitalist competition.
This does not necessarily involve any unsavory collusion (although
there are instances of overly zealous “planning,” illegal price fixing,

Technocracy 165

and the like). The image is, rather, that of technical soul brothers acting
in the best interest of the corporation and, since corporations are pre-
sumably a reflection of the society they serve, the social interest as
well. Such, according to Galbraith, is the technostructure’s own concep-
tion of its role.

An inevitable concomitant of this ambitious quest for control is
political power. The arms of the technostructure reach into the state,
not by some selfish design but through the need to meet the require-
ments of the vast new technological system. ‘‘The mature corporation
..-, Galbraith writes, ‘‘depends on the state for trained manpower,
the regulation of aggregate demand, for stability in wages and prices.
All are essential to the planning with which it replaces the market.
The state, through military and other technical pracurement, under-
writes the corporation’s largest capital commitments in its area of most
advanced technology.”8! When the corporation cannot accomplish its
ends through its own power, it relies on the power of government.
This is made possible by the fact that there exists a rough harmony of
interest between the state and the corporate system. Both want a stable
economy, continued economic growth, a strong national defense, and
continued scientific and technical advance. Government agencies work
so closely with corporate organizations that the lines separating them
often become indistinguishable. ‘The industrial system, in fact, is in-
extricably associated with the state. In notable respects the mature cor-
poration is an arm of the state. And the state, in important matters,
is an instrument of the industrial system. ?82 By far the most con-
venient solution to the technostructure’s problem of obtaining a large,
steady supply of capital, relief from outside interference, and insurance
against market uncertainty is simply to do business with the military.
As was the case for Price, Galbraith’s best examples come from the
realm of ‘‘defense procurement.” °3

Galbraith has no intrinsic objections to the concentration of power
in the ‘“‘new industrial state.’’ He is troubled, however, that the power
will not be used to achieve a broad range of social goals. More precisely,
he is bothered by a situation in which the values of an autonomous

Autonomous Technology 166

technostructure are becoming the only important values of the whole
society. In this manner, the entire industrial-state network, what he
now Calls “the planning system,” looms as a kind of self-programming
mechanism, unresponsive to the wants of people it supposedly serves. 84
“If we continue to believe that the goals of the industrial system—the
expansion of output, the companion increase in consumption, techno-
logical advance, the public images that sustain it—are coordinate with
life, then all of our lives will be in the service of these goals. What is
consistent with these ends we shall have or be allowed; all else will be
off limits. Our wants will be managed in accordance with the needs of
the industrial system; the policies of the state will be subject to similar
influence; education will be adapted to industrial need; the disciplines
required by the industrial system will be the conventional morality of
the community. All other goals will be made to seem precious, unim-
portant or antisocial. We will be bound to the ends of the industrial
system. The state will add its moral, and perhaps some of its legal,
power to their enforcement.” 85

Galbraith offers evidence of this lamentable trend in the manage-
ment of consumer demand, the circumvention of the market in matters
of supply, and the cooperative disposition of political leaders. All
sources of social direction outside the technostructure are gradually
modified or neutralized. The hope for countervailing power, particu-
larly that of organized labor against the corporation, emphasized in
Galbraith’s earlier writings, has now faded into oblivion. He now holds
that labor unions have lost their punch and are thoroughly accommo-
dated to the needs of the technostructure. Increasingly, therefore, the
industrial system is able to establish its independence of the common-
sense logic of technology that we examined earlier—the logic that runs
from consciously chosen ends to appropriately selected means to the
desired results. There is now, Galbraith argues, a ‘“‘revised sequence.”
Those influences that should be leading—consumer preference, political
decision, primary social goals—are actually dragged in train. Society
begins to take its pattern from the warped priorities and projects of an
economy of ‘‘unequal development” in which many worthwhile con-

Technocracy 167

cerns—housing, health care, the arts, the welfare of the disadvantaged—
languish in the shadow of the latest megatechnical investments.

But all is not lost, Galbraith believes. There is possible advantage in
the fact that state and corporation are closely linked. “If the mature cor-
poration is recognized to be part of the penumbra of the state, it will
be more strongly in the service of social goals. It cannot plead its in-
herently private character or its subordination to the market as cover
for the pursuit of different goals of particular interest to itself.”” 86
If only society would realize the true character of the existing circum-
stances and reassert its best purposes through the agency of the state,
a manifestly bad system could be turned into a good one. In Economics
and the Public Purpose Galbraith details an elaborate program of re-
forms. Among others, he suggests measures to revivify the market as
against the planning system and to control government expenditures to
accord with what he believes to be genuine public purposes. This would
require an even more fundamental “emancipation of belief,” freeing us
from the idea “that the purposes of the planning system are those of
the individual.” 87 Accompanying this will be a wonderful rebirth of
“public cognizance” in which the executive and legislative branches of
government would regain their political fettle. From there one could
move to a system of progressive taxation, regulation of prices and pro-
duction, development of white-collar unions, and other steps to limit
the influence of the technostructure.

The trouble with such proposals, revealed by Galbraith’s own analy-
sis, is that previously viable sources of political direction are missing.
Each group with any appreciable social power has gained auxiliary
membership in the technostructure or has been put on its payroll. Who,
then, will speak for reasonable, humane, public ends? Where can any
reformist tendency originate?

It is no exaggeration to say that at about the time Don Price picked
up the idea of countervailing power, Galbraith was discarding it. Now,
in an ironic (but obviously unconscious) swap, Galbraith embraces
Price’s notion of the scientific estate as the saving remnant. Social
science is stranger than fiction. Citing Price’s book as documentation,

Autonomous Technology 168

Galbraith announces that only the intellectual community of the
modern age—the scientific and educational estate in the university—
can give voice to nontechnostructural values. “‘Unlike members of the
technostructure, the educational scientific estate is not handicapped in
political action by being accustomed to function only as part of an
organization. It gains power in a socially complex society from its capa-
city for social invention.” 88 “No intellectual, no artist, no educator, no
scientist can allow himself the convenience of doubting his responsi-
bility. For the goals that are now important there are no other saviors.
In a scientifically exacting world scientists must assume responsibility
for the consequences of science and technology.” 89 He concludes that
the industrial system has unwittingly brought into existence, ‘‘to serve
its intellectual and scientific needs, the community that, hopefully, will
reject its monopoly of social purpose.””99 The scientific and educa-
tional estate becomes the universal human class, carrying the banner of
truth and virtue.

We recall that Don Price found it necessary to transcend this simple
notion to seek a balance of power to keep the new estate honest. He
recognized that scientists and professionals, including those in the uni-
versity, have been dealt into the game, strive to protect their own inter-
ests, and cannot in themselves be counted upon for the critical inde-
pendence necessary for reform. According to Galbraith’s own argu-
ments, the suddenly announced hope in the new intellectuals is ill
founded. The New Industrial State shows clearly that members of the
scientific and educational estate are deeply enmeshed in the projects
and goals of the technostructure. He writes disparagingly of his own
discipline, economics, saying that it ‘thas extensively and rather subtly
accommodated itself to the goals of the industrial system.”9! Other
disciplines are just as strongly affected and tune their efforts to the
kinds of inquiry that the industrial-state system will finance and utilize.
The only exceptions that Galbraith finds are ‘‘the classics, humanities,
some of the social sciences.”92 Oh, bright hope in yonder classics
department!

In the end, Galbraith finds himself hoisted with his own petard. The

Technocracy 169

argument that establishes the autonomy of the technostructure makes
attempts to limit this autonomy seem flimsy and contrived. Late in the
book he concludes, ‘“‘The autonomy of the technostructure is, to repeat
yet again, a functional necessity of the industrial system. But the goals
this autonomy serves allow some range of choice.” 93 Nothing in his
position, other than the extraneous glimmer of the scientific and edu-
cational estate, shows how such choices might be made. Much like
Price, he ends up saying that the new decision makers and planners of a
technological society must be “responsible.” “If other goals are
strongly asserted, the industrial system will fall into its place as a de-
tached and autonomous arm of the state, but responsible to the larger
purposes of society.’?94 But the question of how autonomy and respon-
sibility can actually exist together in this kind of environment is not
illuminated by further argument.

Galbraith’s work is far from being the last word on American politi-
cal life. It stands as an intelligent attempt to describe the technocratic
strand -and to come to grips with dilemmas this poses to liberal politics.
But certainly there is more to the story: other bands are present in the
spectrum of power. One problem with the technocratic perspective is
that in order to make its case clear and significant, it must play down
sources of business and financial influence, including those directly
linked to technically trained elite groups, namely, the corporate
owners. The tendency is to portray corporate ownership as entirely
fragmented, withdrawn, content with its level of profits, and not at all
eager to exercise immediate, day-to-day control. Power falls to the tech-
nically trained stratum in the corporation and society as a whole after
the capitalist class has retired (or absconded). Just as Burnham found
the holders of capitalist wealth ‘ton yachts and beaches, in casinos and
traveling among their many estates,”95 Galbraith believes that cor-
porate stockholders are so numerous, disorganized, yet satisfied that
they could not possibly reassert their former position of supremacy.
Is it possible, however, that the technostructure actually exercises
power through the good graces of the financial and business elite and is
directed in its work by tacit limits and understandings that reflect this

Autonomous Technology 170

influence? Although I cannot settle that question here, it is certainly
worth asking.

The point is, then, that the writings of Galbraith and Price provide a
partial, although important, portrait of the power relationships in
modern American society. They describe a sphere of political and
social influence which is already very large and gives every indication
of continuing to expand. In this respect The Scientific Estate and The
New Industrial State put flesh and bone on a tradition of technocratic
theory that was previously little more than futuristic speculation. The
major strength of both authors is simply to observe the mundane con-
ditions now existing in the corporations, legislatures, universities, gov-
ernment agencies, and foundations and to report what they have seen.
Earlier authors who approached technocracy through abstract theory or
utopian fiction would not be surprised at the general shape of the world
that Price and Galbraith describe. Veblen could survey these findings,
notice a few new terms, and say, ‘Of course.” Saint-Simon might com-
plain that he had not been given sufficient credit for a basic outline put
down a century and a half ago. And Bacon might express his apprecia-
tion at seeing the New Atlantis brought nicely up to date.

But the writings of Galbraith and Price are interesting not only for
what they say about the role of the new men of knowledge but also for
what they do not say. Clearly visible in both books is a new notion of
political enfranchisement which neither author finds unusual or at all
distasteful. The guiding assumption is that in a society based on sophis-
ticated scientific technologies, the real voting will take place on a very
high level of technical understanding. The voice that one has will
depend directly upon the information, hard data, or theoretical insight
one is able to supply in a group decision-making process. One may regis-
ter to vote on this level only by exhibiting proper credentials as an
expert. The balloting will be closed to the ignorant and to those whose
knowledge is out of date or otherwise not directly relevant to the prob-
lem at hand. Among the disenfranchised in the arrangement are some
previously formidable characters: the average citizen, the sovereign con-

Technocracy 171

sumer, the small stockholder, and the home-grown politician. All of
these have lost their vital role in the arena where the crucial policies and
decisions are made. The historical evolution of technology with its ac-
companying demand for high-quality information has rendered their
old-fashioned ways obsolete.

Neither The Scientific Estate nor The New Industrial State questions
or criticizes this condition in the political order. Some things just have
to be taken as “given” or inevitable, or so many of the leading writers
in this field would have us believe. The solution Price offers the new
polity is essentially a balancing mechanism, which contains those en-
franchised at a high level of knowledgeability and forces them to co-
operate with each other. Galbraith’s cure holds out a virtuous elite
within an elite to champion values lost in the new chambers of power.
Beyond that, however, he will evidently be satisfied if the system yields
“a reliable flow of income and product at reasonably stable prices.’”96
But neither author does much to lend hope to the political possibilities
of democracy or representative government under the new set of cir-
cumstances. Given the logic of their own arguments, it is probably un-
likely that such possibilities could be sustained at all.

It is not unusual that liberal political theory should end up with
elitist, nondemocratic conclusions. Such is the rule rather than the
exception. What is interesting here, however, is that Galbraith and Price
are so thoroughly imperturbable in the face of these developments. Per-
haps a close familiarity with the relations of power and authority in
liberal technocracy has convinced them that any serious effort to alter
the situation would be foolish, An understanding of this kind can, very
naturally, make one yearn for an even more advanced elite of the
knowledgeable—a corps of enlightened planners, technology assessors,
systems designers, or some other—to return the republic to an intelli-
gent, humane course.

This does not end our treatment of the issue of technocracy. Having
seen some of the problems it creates for liberal politics, we shall later
want to examine its implications for socialism. This will be done,

Autonomous Technology 172

however, only after the basic theme has been substantially reworked
and reinterpreted. In and of itself, the search for elites overlooks much
of genuine importance. Larger and more interesting problems beckon
us.

Chapter 5
Artifice and Order

Who governs? According to a leading opinion of our time, the question
exhausts nearly all political possibilities. It is, indeed, the question ad-
dressed in the preceding chapter. But if one is interested in the relation-
ship of technology and politics, the matter of ‘who governs” tends to
skew the inquiry in a markedly lopsided direction. It suggests that we
limit our search to persons and groups in positions of power and to
compare the relative degrees of influence and control that such persons
hold. Both liberal social scientists and Marxists, whatever their disagree-
ments on the answer and its meaning, are agreed that ‘“Who?”’ is the
crucial question. I would certainly not dispute the fact that this is an
important concern. But lost in the perspective is an equally interest-
ing question: What governs?

Are there certain conditions, constraints, necessities, requirements,
or imperatives effectively governing how an advanced technological
society operates? Do such conditions predominate regardless of the
specific character of the men who ostensibly hold power? This, it seems
to me, is the most crucial problem raised by the conjunction of politics
and technics. It is certainly the point at which the idea of autonomous
technology has its broadest significance.

If one returns to the modern writings on technocracy in this light,
one finds that parallel to the conceptions about scientific and technical
elites and their power is a notion of order—a technological order— in
which in a true sense no persons or groups rule at all. Individuals and
elites are present, but their roles and actions conform so closely to the
framework established by the structures and processes of the technical
system that any claim to determination by human choice becomes
purely illusory. In this way of looking at things, technology itself is
seen to have a distinctly political form. The technological order built
since the scientific revolution now encompasses, interpenetrates, and in-
corporates all of society. Its standards of operation are the rules men
must obey. Within this comprehensive order, government becomes the
business of recognizing what is necessary and efficient for the con-
tinued functioning and elaboration of large-scale systems and the ra-
tional implementation of their manifest requirements. Politics becomes

Autonomous Technology 174

the acting out of the technical hegemony. In the words of Herbert
Marcuse. ‘Technological rationality reveals its political character as it
becomes the great vehicle of better domination, creating a truly totali-
tarian universe in which society and nature, mind and body are kept in
a state of permanent mobilization for the defense of this universe.” !

Traces of this view occur in the very first modern writings on science
and society. Saint-Simon recognized that if the design for an industrial
society organized on scientific principles were successful, then the rule
of his congress of industrialists, scientists, and artists would be subor-
dinate to the rule of the principles themselves.2 A truly well-governed
society would, as a matter of course, adopt the laws of science and the
methods of technology, which would in their perfection take care of
every aspect of life. The new world would rest on a self-directing, self-
maintaining system, which would require human presence only as a
kind of lubrication in the joints. In twentieth-century social philosophy
the conception of a self-maintaining technological society has recurred
in a number of interesting and disturbing books—Oswald Spengler’s
Man and Technics, Friedrich Georg Juenger’s The Failure of Tech-
nology, Karl Jasper’s Man in the Modern Age, Lewis Mumford’s The
Myth of the Machine, Herbert Marcuse’s One-Dimensional Man, Sieg-
fried Giedion’s Mechanization Takes Command, and Jacques Ellul’s
The Technological Society. These works contain a widely diverse collec-
tion of arguments and conclusions, but in them one finds a roughly
shared notion of society and politics, a common set of observations,
assumptions, modes of thinking and sense of the whole, which, I be-
lieve, unites them as an identifiable tradition. Taken together they ex-
press an inchoate theory which takes modern technology as its do-
main.?

My aim in this chapter and the next is to present a theory of tech-
nological society and politics based upon the writings mentioned, ex-
tending and clarifying arguments in that tradition whenever it seems
useful. The approach will not be one of summarizing or comparing
various kinds of theoretical formulations or of tracing their intellectual
pedigrees. That Marcuse is similar to Ellul or Mumford in some ways,

Artifice and Order 175

different in others, and that the differences have to do with their philo-
sophical roots, are obvious conclusions and need not be agonized over
for our purposes. Instead, I will examine and put to use the basic cate-
gories and assertions which are, in one form or another, crucial to any
theory of this kind. What the perspective accounts for is not so much
the full range of relationships present in any existing society but rather
a tendency increasingly characteristic of the modern age. In describing
this tendency the theory offers a picture of our world from a special
vantage point, a picture that includes as a basic part of its structure a
set of warnings about some of the destinations encountered on our

society’s present course.

The Technological Society: Groundwork

There is, unfortunately, a good deal of clutter along this path to under-
standing. Much of what now passes for incisive analysis is actually
nothing more than elaborate landscape, impressionistic, futuristic
razzle-dazzle spewing forth in an endless stream of paperback non-
books, media extravaganzas, and global village publicity.

The images here have become common currency. We are now aware
that whole continents are clogged with sprawling megalopolises linked
together by circulatory systems of freeways and automobiles. We have
become used to the presence of massive, labyrinthine bureaucracies
manned by nameless, faceless functionaries and buoyed up by seas of
forms, punch cards, and paperwork. We are, similarly, accustomed to
hearing the facts of the production-consumption cycle: how much is
manufactured, how many resources are used, how much is purchased,
how much is ingested, how much is thrown away, and how much all of
this has to do with the growth of large corporations, conglomerates,
and multinationals. Every intelligent woman or man is now fully in-
formed of the burgeoning, worldwide military systems combining the
most spectacular and costly weapons with vast administrative organiza-
tions, all designed for surefire peace or annihilation, depending on one’s
point of view. We are familiar with the growing influence of electronic
circuitry, communications networks, computers, and data banks upon

Autonomous Technology 176

the affairs of all institutions and individuals. And it is equally apparent
that the world in which all of these are present and appropriate is one
that brings an increasing use of wonder drugs for the body, mind, and
spirit. As we become acclimated to such developments in their spec-
tacular multiplicity, the future looms as less a shock than a bore.

To go on describing such things endlessly does little to advance our
insight. Neither is it helpful to devise new names for the world pro-
duced. The Postindustrial Society? The Technetronic Society? The
Posthistoric Society? The Active Society? In an unconscious parody
of the ancient belief that he who knows God’s secret name will have
extraordinary powers, the idea seems to be that a stroke of nomen-
clature will bring light to the darkness. This does make for captivating
book titles but little else.4 The fashion, furthermore, is to exclaim in
apparent horror at the incredible scenes unfolding before one’s eyes and
yet deep in one’s heart relish the excitement and perversity of it all.
Alleged critiques turn out to be elaborate advertisements for the situa-
tions they ostensibly abhor.° Exceptions to this sad state are to be
found in a handful of serious artists and philosophers whose efforts go
beyond anecdote and future prattle to penetrate the aesthetic or theo-
retic essence of the phenomena at hand.®

Even those who launch serious investigations, however, frequently
encounter snags along the way. This is understandable. The subject,
for reasons discussed earlier, is an overwhelming one in its extent and
diversity. It is characteristic of those who have recognized technoldgy
as a problem for politics that they accepted the challenge without any
great love or eagerness. In most cases the thinker seems to have been
driven to accept the technological perspective by the weight of circum-
stances which could no longer be denied. For writers like Jaspers,
Giedion, Ellul, Arendt, and Heidegger, the facts of technics loom as a
colossal barrier that the modern intellect must penetrate even though
it would prefer to move on to something more agreeable. Responding
to the staggering proportions of the problem, thinkers have gravitated
toward Scylla on the one hand, Charybdis on the other—between an
altogether crass reductionism and a wild, multifactoral confusion.

Artifice and Order 177

Most notorious of the reductionists is Ellul. His work stands as an
elaborate hall of mirrors, deliberately designed to leave no passage out.
From the building of skyscrapers to roller skating, Ellul’s ubiquitous
concept of technique expands to encompass any subject and to resist
contrary examples. Planning and public opinion, for instance, which
might be taken as possible forces counter to unbridled technical
advance, are shown to be mere products of technique itself.” The
Technological Society is less an attempt at systematic theory than a
wholesale catalog of assertions and illustrations buzzing around a par-
ticular point. The book is one that its readers rave against, refute in
dozens of ways, and then lose sleep over. Fortunately we need not fol-
low Ellul in seeing technique as a strictly univocal phenomenon or in
making totally nonfalsifiable arguments. It is possible to learn from the
man’s remarkable vision without adopting the idiosyncrasies of his
work.

When writing on the technological society does not bog down in
reductionism, it frequently moves toward the opposite extreme and
tries to deal with all varieties of explanation simultaneously. Analyses
of this sort become sprawling grab bags of sociological information
about the expansion of population, market conditions, mass culture,
and the psychological condition of modern man. There is nothing
inherently wrong in this. When it comes right down to it, most modern
thought amounts to combining theories and conclusions whose logical
connections are indefinite. We tend to believe that things happen as the
result of “‘a little of this and a little of that.” Even the determinism of
Karl Marx was modified to include a rich variety of historical factors
whenever Marx wished to interpret a specific historical case, for
example, the movement from feudalism to capitalism or the workings
of French politics.8 The problem with allowing the inevitable flood of
variables to enter a theory too early, however, is that one may fail to
treat the original subject of concern in its integrity.

What we require, then, is to give the technological element its due,
without falling into either reductionism or eclectic compromise. If it
makes sense to isolate this subject for attention, the perspective based

Autonomous Technology 178

on it should give us something distinctive and useful. It should show
how it is that if one pulls on this particular string, one uncovers a sec-
tion of the edifice not previously visible.

In this light I want to set forth some concepts and distinctions that
seem to me central to a critical theory of technological society.
Artificiality
An obvious place to begin is to recognize that the human world has
entered a new stage in its history, a stage qualitatively different from
anything previously known. Perhaps the most important fact of this
new age is that in a very literal sense men and women are construct-
ing the world anew. Science has revealed the structures, processes, and
laws of nature and thereby opened the natural sphere to all sorts of
modifications. The material world in which man now lives is, as a
result, one of artificial resynthesized products. The original creation
was not sufficient to suit Western man’s striving, appetitive constitu-
tion. A second creation has taken place in which human beings refash-
ioned vast portions of material reality to suit their desires.9

The scope of artifice and modification, furthermore, does not stop
with the reconstruction of nature. It also extends to human society.
Much of what had previously rested upon “tradition” or “natural
social groups” has now been rebuilt according to preconceived design.
Roles, relationships, groups, and even individual personalities are now
largely subject to conscious technical manipulation.!0

A consequence of artificiality is that human beings find themselves
responsible for an increasingly large share of worldly conditions.
Structures of a natural or traditional sort were for the most part self-
maintaining in the sense that deliberate control was not required to
keep them intact. Artificial structures, in contrast, must be man-
maintained since the “second nature” now produced is not a part of
the world’s original process of self-adjustment.!!

Extension

Beginning with Rousseau’s Discourses and continuing to Marshall Mc-
Luhan’s writings on electronic media, modern writers have observed
that technical devices in a real sense extend human capabilities.12 The

Artifice and Order 179

five senses, physical mobility, human strength, and ability to act af all
augmented and, in some points of view, enhanced by such meanhh One
may even classify technologies in terms of which human capaalty lt
extended and how. Transportation technologies increase one's ability
to move in geographical space. Systems of communication expand one's
power to see, hear, speak, and express oneself over great distancel:
Technology in this light is significant for the fact that it allows one to
do things one could not previously have done. Perhaps more accurately,
it allows human individuals to be something, a kind of being, previously
unknown on earth.

A consequence of extension is that, in a way never experienced be-
fore, a person’s physical presence is not required for action to take
place. Every variety of control, expression, thought, motion, and pro-
duction of events can take place through remote channels composed of
long lines. Individuals can substitute ‘‘being there’? with a number of
sophisticated devices. A by-product of extension, therefore, is a quality
of remoteness.

Rationality

This is a concept indispensable to any adequate description of techno-
logical society, but there is far from universal agreement on its meaning.
The notion can be understood to indicate (1) a state of intellect, (2) a
way of acting, (3) an arrangement of things in the world, or all these
together. Michael Oakeshott has added to the controversy by suggest-
ing that any addition of the technical element to the meaning of
rational distorts the original meaning of the term (reasonableness or
intelligence in the conduct of a given activity) and tends to corrupt the
practice it identifies. 13 But allowing for this complication, the follow-
ing uses of the concept are fairly standard.

Rationality is a condition of reasonable or logical order in either the
static structure of any instrument or in the dynamic operation of any
technique. The parts fit together correctly. Steps in the process follow
each other in an appropriate, preconceived fashion. Rationality in this
sense is something that can be modeled in a formal design or pro-
grammed in formal rules of operation.!4 In Ellul’s version, ‘Every

Autonomous Technology 180

intervention of technique is, in effect, a reduction of facts, forces, phe-
nomena, means, and instruments to the schema of logic.” 15 It was an
ordering or “systematic arrangement” of this sort that Max Weber
identified as a linear process of transformation in all social history. In
this process, static designs of intellect gradually conquer the charis-
matic, nonrational elements in history and come to dominate all of
human existence. ‘‘The fate of our times,’ he concluded, “‘is charac-
terized by rationalization and intellectualization and, above all by the
‘disenchantment of the world.’ ”!6

Another definition of rationality, which we have already seen, is
that of “the accommodation of means to ends.” !7 Since problems con-
nected to this theme will concern us later, I shall say nothing more
about it now.

Rationality can also be understood as a kind of efficiency. Some-
thing is rational if it produces the desired effect with a minimum of
waste or, to put it differently, if it gives the highest output per unit
input. Organization theorist James D. Thompson identifies this as the
economic criterion of technical rationality. “The economic question in
essence is whether the results are obtained with the least necessary
expenditure of resources, and for this there is no absolute standard.” 18
It is this notion of rationality that permits Ellul to argue that, in point
of fact, economics is now very largely subordinate to technique. Tech-
nological society began with economic calculations of the input-output
ratio seen mainly in terms of profit and market performance. Now,
Ellul argues, this standard of performance has become a much more
general social norm, applicable in virtually every sphere of social ac-
tivity. Profit as an economic motive and the market as a mechanism of
social adjustment are both still present, but they have withered in sig-
nificance through the universal application of input-output technical
rationality—the quest for absolute efficiency, ‘‘the one best way.’719
It is this version of the idea of rationality that also allows Ellul and
others to conclude that precise measurement, calculation, and ration-
ality are merely different names for the same general process.

One could ferret out further definitions, but this would risk creat-

Artifice and Order 181

ing an unnecessary public nuance. Suffice it to say that there are at
least three standard, distinct uses for the term “rationality’? which
make good sense. It is interesting to notice that they are in no sense
necessarily compatible. An institution, policy, or practice may be ra-
tional in one meaning of the term and yet totally irrational by either or
both of the others.

Size and Concentration

In their very nature, modern technologies are large-scale, high-energy,
high-resource systems requiring massive commitments of capital and
technically trained manpower. Small-scale, localized arts and crafts live
on, of course, primarily as vestigial remnants of a tradition of material
culture that has lost its vitality. While technical organizations and ap-
paratus of enormous size are not a totally new phenomenon in history,
they are clearly more central to contemporary social existence than to
any previous era.29

Two general circumstances account for this quality. In many instan-
ces the fact of scale arises as a necessity of technical operation. If the
system in question is to work at all, vast numbers of parts must be
drawn together (concentrated) and arranged in a functioning whole.
Under many present situations, the “tool” and its utility can only take
shape when the aggregate of parts has reached a certain critical mass. In
this sense our tools are simply much larger, far-flung devices than have
ever been used previously. As technical goals have expanded in am-
bitiousness, so have technical systems expanded in size.

The impetus to large size is also linked to the input-output ra-
tionality mentioned above. Within certain limits, it is possible to ra-
tionalize an operation—that is, to increase efficiency or reduce costs—
by increasing its size. Economies of scale in production, for example,
are frequently gained by building more and larger factories or by coor-
dinating previously separate activities in the same general field. If one
adds to this the element of power that accompanies the elaboration of
large-scale networks, power over the environment of Operations, and
corresponding freedom to act, the rationale becomes even more com-
pelling. Enlarge, concentrate, and connect. From water systems to

Autonomous Technology 182

motel chains, telephone companies to ready-in-a-jiffy hamburger restau-
rants, the tendency is to arrange things on a vast scale.21

Of course one can argue that there is no inherent technical reason
why even such ambitious activities as steel and automobile production,
electric power generation, and distribution could not be done on a
localized, modest scale. But this simply ignores the indelible link be-
tween the technical and the rational upon which our age has fastened.
It is always possible in principle, perhaps even in some form of prac-
tice, to have a conveniently small aluminum plant cooking in the
vacant lot next door. But, as analysts of scale are quick to point out,
the costs of proceeding in this manner are enormous as compared toa
mammoth network to handle the same function.

In the twentieth century, to propose that any socially important
technology be organized on a small scale is usually taken as a sign of
madness. A quaint, old-fashioned madness, but madness nonetheless.
Enterprises of small scale are impossible given what must be done and
totally irrational by the best input-output calculations. That conclusion
is crucial to the perspective we are developing here. To begin seeing
other possibilities involves a level of questioning and criticism
far beyond anything advanced industrial societies are willing to

undertake.

Division

Technology succeeds by taking the world apart and putting it back
together in productive ways. 22 In the design of this success, precise
division is absolutely crucial. Francis Bacon long ago stressed the idea
that the laws and qualities of nature useful to man could be found only
by cutting the universe to pieces and inducing each section to give up
its secrets. “For I am building in the human understanding,” he wrote,
“a true model of the world, such as it is in fact,...a thing which can-
not be done without a very diligent dissection and anatomy of the

world.” 23
In the operation of technical systems the components must, at the

outset, be separate and precisely defined. If the parts are nonhuman, ~
they must be built to perform a specific, predetermined function. The

Artificeand Order 183

idea of a division of labor is merely one way of seeing how division ar
specificity produce results. One might say that the division of labor
the basis of the industrial revolution; the division of all reality is tl
foundation of the technological revolution. Siegfried Giedion speaks |
the process of division in terms of the machine model and arrives at
standard conclusion: “Mechanizing production means dissecting wor
into its component operations—a fact that has not changed since Ada:
Smith outlined the principle of mechanization in a famous Passage ¢
his Wealth of Nations in 1776. ‘The invention of all those machines b
which labor is so much facilitated and abridged seems to have been or
ginally owing to the division of labor.’ It need only be added that |
manufacturing complex products such as the automobile, this divisio
goes together with a re-assembly.” 24

Complex Interconnection

Precise division, then, is followed by intricate reconnection. The e!
fective working of any technical apparatus or organization requires thu
large numbers of parts be linked together in rational, functional whole!
In the systems created, the operating parts have multiple and divers
interconnections. Increasingly in modern writing, one finds the now
complexity used to suggest a condition of this sort which might b
studied in its own right. Complexity looms as a distinctive problen
when systems of interconnected parts begin to tax the human ability
to make the artificial whole intelligible.

Nature, of course, also contains complex interconnections, But w
noted earlier, the complexity of natural structures does not pose dil
ficulties for us (except when we wish to inquire into them or divide
and rebuild them according to our own specifications), The struc
tures of nature are “God given,” self-regulating, and self-maintalning
Artificially complex structures, in comparison, pose a number of prac
tical and intellectual problems; man is responsible for their synthesis,
regulation, and continued maintenance. In almost no instance can arti:
ficial-rational systems be built and left alone. They require continued

ultention, rebuilding, and repair. Eternal vigilance is the price of arti:
ficial complexity.

Autonomous Technology 184

Dependence and Interdependence

Often one wants to say more about the parts of a technological en-
semble than that they are divided in their functions and interconnected.
A useful next step comes in noticing that many of the most important
interconnected components have a relationship of interdependency.
The performance of technological systems rests upon the ordered and
effective contribution of parts that rely on each other. Nothing of
significance is done by self-contained units acting alone. Virtually
everything is accomplished through the coordinated work of a variety
of operating segments.

Care must be taken, however, not to draw absurd conclusions from
this notion. There is a tendency to think that in an increasingly inter-
dependent technological society or world system, all of the parts need
each other equally. Seen as a characteristic of modern social relation-
ships, this is sometimes upheld as a wonderfully fortuitous by-product
of the rise of advanced technics. The necessary web of mutual depen-
dency binds individuals and social groups closer together; lo, a new kind
of community is forming before our very eyes. But this view involves
distortion. It confuses interdependency with mere dependency. An
individual may depend upon the electricity or telephone company for
services crucial to his way of living. But does it make sense to say that
the companies depend on that particular individual? It is hard to sustain
the notion of mutuality when one of the parties could be cut off the re-
lationship and the other scarcely notice it.25 Not every plug and not
every socket is essential to the network.

A completely interdependent technological society would be one
without hierarchy or class. But the distinction between dependence and
interdependence points to a hierarchical arrangement of the segments
of the technological order, an arrangement that includes social compo-
nents. Within each functioning system some parts are more crucial than
others. Components that handle the planning or steering for the whole
system are more central than those that take care of some small aspect
of a technical subroutine. One may ask: On what does everyone and
everything depend? On what do many things depend? Relatively few

Artifice and Order 185

things depend? Rather than a condition of equality or a classless state,
we find arrangements of subordinate and superordinate units. Large
man-machine networks require hierarchical structure as a normal
operating condition.

The Center

The necessity for coordination of diverse operations within a large-scale
network usually requires central control. To say that something is
centralized means that it has undergone a process that makes its work-
ing depend upon directions from a core. The distinction between the
center and the other parts of a system can be of either a geographi-
cal or functional sort. Hence, centralization entails that control over
basic technical means—energy, communication, water supply, sewage
disposal, and so forth—is removed from geographical localities, for ex-
ample, neighborhoods or local communities, and given over to a single
agency of control. Under the input-output norms that characterize
twentieth-century thinking, local direction of anything of genuine im-
portance is seen as a source of waste, chaos, or worse. Coordination by
a center can also be a purely functional matter. Relatively peripheral
parts and persons in an organized hierarchy depend upon a core that
makes plans and issues orders.

In most modern technological systems autonomous action is truly
available to the center alone. Some have argued that peripheral parts
also exercise a measure of control by selecting which information ac-
tually reaches the center. A few varieties of highly technical organiza-
tion, think tanks like RAND for example, have found that attempts at
central coordination are more of a hindrance than help in getting work
done. Taking such paltry signs as a cue, some observers have begun to
predict that a collegial decentralization is the wave of the future. But
compared to the success of central control in likes of the Apollo pro-
gram or the worldwide operations of ITT under Harold Geneen, the al-
leged counterexamples are pathetic.

Apraxia
To this point I have deliberately avoided neologism in developing this
set of terms. But from the viewpoint I have sketched, one situation

Autonomous Technology 186

deserves a special name. If a significant link in a technical system
ceases to function, the whole system stops or is thrown into chaos.
It is this condition I want to call apraxia, a term used in medicine to
describe the inability to perform coordinated movements. In large-
scale technical networks composed of artificial components with
complex interconnections and interdependencies, apraxia is a constant
danger.

The possibility of severe breakdowns in high technology has been an
important concern since Marx described the unwieldiness of capitalism
in its advanced stages. But it was Thorstein Veblen who first stated the
issue in a way similar to that I am using here. “The industrial system,”
he wrote, “runs on as an inclusive organization of many diverse, inter-
locking mechanical processes, interdependent and balanced among
themselves in such a way that the due working of any part of it is con-
ditioned on the due working of all the rest.”26 “With every further
advance in the way of specialization and standardization, in point of
kind, quantity, quality, and time, the tolerance of the system as a
whole under any strategic maladjustment grows continually nar-
rower.” 27 Veblen saw the problem in terms of the “‘sabotage” of the
industrial system by the industrialists and financiers. ‘“The date may
not be far distant,” he warned, ‘“‘when the interlocking processes of the
industrial system shall have become so closely interdependent and so
delicately balanced that even the ordinary modicum of sabotage in-
volved in the conduct of business as usual will bring the whole to a
fatal collapse.” 28

The threat of technological apraxia is an important cutting edge of
the theory. It is a condition that planners and administrators regard
with worshipful awe and critics sense to be the ultimate barrier to any
attempt to arrange things differently. The technological order is one in
which all systems are ‘‘go” and indeed must be. The alternative is disas-
ter for technology-dependent human population. Whether through ac-
cident, as in the great East Coast blackout of 1965, or deliberate inter-
vention, as was the case in the energy crisis following the Middle East
war of 1973, the lessons here are sobering. For those who respect the

Artifice and Order 187

possibility of calamitous breakdowns, there comes a moral imperative
that all major systems must be kept in good functioning order. Any
nonexpert tampering is seen as positively malicious. In visions of tech-
nological society, apraxia assumes much the same place as the return to
the state of nature in Hobbes. It is the ultimate horror, a condition to
be avoided at all costs.

These, then, are some of the terms I consider useful in thinking
about the composition of a technological society. The reader may have
noticed that one or more of his or her own favorite categories of de-
scription—organization, integration, control, uncertainty, and so forth—
are not present in this array. Some of this lack I hope to remedy in the
following pages as the syntax of this vocabulary becomes clear. We turn
now to a core issue, the thematic axis about which the more specific

questions in this perspective revolve.

Technological Politics: Master and Slave Revisited
We have already seen the manner in which the master-slave metaphor
and the idea of absolute mastery stand at the heart of Western thought
about science and technics. In the theory of technological politics the
theme returns with a series of ironic twists. If there is a central conclu-
sion shared by critics of the technological society, it is that man over-
comes his bondage to economic necessity only by submitting to
bondage of a different, but equally powerful, sort. The conquest of
nature is achieved at a considerable price—an even more thorough con-
quest of all human and all social possibilities. The dream of scientific
technics promises a boon that was long thought impossible: inexhaus-
tible riches combined with a liberation from toil. Ellul compares this
dream to the legend of Faust and concludes that in his contract with
la technique, man did not read the fine print. ‘‘Man never asks himself
what he will have to pay for his power,” he observes. ‘This is the ques-
tion we ought to be asking.” 29 The answer, Ellul makes evident on
every page, is clear. The true price is loss of freedom.

Marcuse, in a similar fashion, again and again returns to the question,
Why has human liberation been so long postponed? Technical mastery

Autonomous Technology 188

in the supreme form of automation ought to have reversed “‘the relation
of free time and working time on which the established civilization
rests: the possibility of working time becoming marginal, and free time
becoming full time.” 30 But this possibility has never been realized.
Paradoxically, the very means to emancipation have instituted a new
condition of servitude. ‘‘The modes of domination have changed: they
have become increasingly technological, productive, and even bene-
ficial; consequently, in the most advanced areas of industrial society,
the people have been co-ordinated and reconciled with the system of
domination to an unprecedented degree.” 31

Perhaps it is only a coincidence that at the same time that the arti-
ficial slave became a distinct possibility, Western philosophers began to
have misgivings about the stability of the institution of slavery. In the
famous passage on ‘“‘Lord and Bondsman” in Hegel’s Phenomenology
we discover that the mode of absolute mastery is ambiguous and ulti-
mately self-subverting. Hegel’s treatment takes slavery to be one
moment in the progress of Spirit toward full self-consciousness. The
master tries to obtain recognition of himself by totally imposing his
will on another subject. But the attempt does not succeed. ‘‘Just where
the master has effectively achieved lordship, he really finds that some-
thing has come about quite different from an independent conscious-
ness. It is not an independent, but rather a dependent consciousness
that he has achieved. He is thus not assured of self-existence as his
truth.” 32 Master and slave are reciprocally defined, but, paradoxically,
the slave has gained the upper hand, for the condition of the master’s
independence is a dependency of a radical sort: dependence on the
slave himself. But the dialectical irony does not end here. The slave
takes yet another step beyond the circumstance of his lord by laboring
in the material world. In this way his selfhood takes on objective reality
and substance, something the master totally lacks. ‘“This consciousness
that toils and serves accordingly attains by this means the direct appre-
hension of that independent being as its self.”” 33

It was from passages like these in Hegel that Marx began thinking
about the universally exploited proletariat and the relationship of

Artifice and Order 189

wage slavery to the capitalist master class. Marx’s theory restates the
Hegelian irony in which subjugation contains the seeds of its own tran-
scendence. In his version, of course, the slaves are able to act out their
independence through revolution.

Another statement of an unexpected link between slave and master
came in the late nineteenth century in the philosophy of Friedrich
Nietzsche. Through a study of ancient etymology, Nietzsche claimed
that he had discovered evidence of a “slave revolt in morals” which had
occurred two thousand years earlier and had shaped civilized life up to
and including his own time. The weakest and most sickly of human be-
ings had in their craft and cunning subverted the power of the strong,
noble men who had previously ruled supreme. This was accomplished
by subtle invention in the meanings of certain terms of evaluation,
particularly “good and evil” and “‘true and false.”34 Because the strong
accepted the terms of their slaves, they could no longer exercise mas-
tery and fell into decadence and submission.

The nineteenth century was, of course, the period in which slavery
and serfdom were finally abolished worldwide. Our civilization, we
sometimes forget, has gone just barely one hundred years without this
venerable institution. And at about the time of the abolition, philoso-
phers had begun to uncover certain paradoxical characteristics inherent
in the institution itself. What is interesting for our purposes is that in
slightly altered form the philosophical critique of slavery is recapitu-
lated in modern speculation about the social context of technology. To
cite an explicit case, the first use of the word ‘‘robot”’ in our language
was directly linked to an idea of slave rebellion. Our concept of “‘ro-
bot” derives from the Czech robota, meaning compulsory labor.35 The
word was introduced into the English language by the popular play
R. U. R. (Rossum’s Universal Robots) by Karel Capek, in which a
newly invented working class of automatons rise in revolt against their
human lords. The robot Radius announces to the head of the factory,
“You will work! You will build for us! You will serve us! ... Robots
of the world! The power of man has fallen! A new world has arisen.
The Rule of the Robots! March!’”36 The overt revolt of the artificial

Autonomous Technology 190

proletariat can be taken as a metaphor for a much more subtle kind of
technical rebellion, which Capek and others have tried to depict for
their audiences. In the theory of technological politics, the conquest of
humanity by technique more clearly resembles the ambiguous situa-
tions of slavery described by Hegel and Nietzsche than the revolu-
tionary apocalypse of Marx.

These themes first set forth in metaphor and abstract symbolism
can, however, be stated in a more precise, concrete fashion. As they
occur repeatedly in modern European and American writings, the
major assertions of the master-slave paradox in terms of modern tech-

nology are the following.

—that men have assumed a position of extreme and even pathological
dependence upon their technical artifacts;

—that the adoption of complex technical forms brings with it a disci-
pline upon individuals and society much more stringent and demand-
ing than any other corresponding arrangement in history;

—that technical means in the context of social practice tend to become
ends in themselves or to redefine the established ends to suit the re-
quirements and character of their own operation;

—that the presence of sophisticated technologies in society tends to
transform and dominate the mental habits, motives, personality, and
behavior of all persons in that society;

—that technical artifice as an aggregate phenomenon dwarfs human con-
sciousness and makes unintelligible the systems that people supposedly
manipulate and control; by this tendency to exceed human grasp and
yet to operate successfully according to its own internal makeup, tech-
nology is a total phenomenon which constitutes a ‘‘second nature”
far exceeding any desires or expectations for the particular com-

ponents.

Along with the notions of technological change and technocracy we
have already discussed, these are the major conclusions advanced in
the literature on autonomous technology in the twentieth century.
Most of what is truly interesting or unusual in the theory of techno-
logical politics, I would argue, is based on an elaboration of these ideas.

The reader, then, has a set of general concepts in mind and a number

Artifice and Order 191

of central themes in full view. My purpose from here on is to clarify
and demystify the problems that these terms reveal. As we probe con-
texts in which the above conclusions make sense, we will find our-
selves in full encounter with the questions of knowledge, control, and
technical neutrality raised at the beginning of the book.

Order, Discipline, and Pace

It is important to notice, first of all, the conception of society which
takes shape in the technological perspective. Absolutely fundamental is
the view that modern technology is a way of organizing the world and
that, potentially, there is no limit to the extent of this organization.
In the end, literally everything within human reach can or will be re-
built, resynthesized, reconstructed, and incorporated into the system
of technical instrumentality. In this all-encompassing arrangement,
human society—the total range of relationships among persons—is one
segment. “Technological society” is actually a subsystem of something
much larger, the technological order. Social relationships are merely
one sort of connection. Individuals and social groups are merely one
variety of component. The connections and groupings of inanimate
Parts are equally crucial to the functioning of the whole.

This is not to say that any existing society has been integrated in
all its parts into a purely technological order. There are some kinds of
social relationships, those involving love and friendship for example,
that have not yet been fully adapted to the demands of technical rou-
tine. The position of the theory is that a strong tendency toward order
of this kind is highly pronounced in all spheres of Western society and
that its development will in all likelihood proceed rapidly on a world-
wide scale.

An apt comparison can be found in the notions of order and society
of the medieval Christian world view. In the great chain of being, with
its hierarchy of God created things, men and women in their various
social positions occupied merely one of several levels and by no means
the most important stratum at that. Each being had its own ‘‘degree”’
or grade of perfection, and it was mandatory that each level in the

Autonomous Technology 192

hierarchy keep its established place. For humans to aspire to anything

more than their appointed position was an act of sinful pride and de-

fiance, an invitation to chaos.3’ In the present view, then, the libera-

tory quality of technology must be weighed against what its system of

order imposes upon and requires of man. Attempts to deal with this

side of the technical situation have engendered two distinctive themes

in modern social philosophy: first, the mechanization of human activity

and social relationships; second, the more thorough conditioning of
individuals through their contact with technical systems and apparatus.

The idea of a mechanized humanity was a prominent part of nine-

teenth-century literature in Europe and America. Thinkers looked at
the advance of an advanced, industrialized world and wondered openly
about the capacity of man to retain his integrity in the face of such
marvelous instrumentation. Thomas Carlyle, to whom we owe the idea
that “man is a tool using animal... . Without tools he is nothing, with
tools he is all,” wrote of the possibility that men would internalize the
external reality of mechanization and become themselves thoroughly
mechanical in thought and behavior.38 Predictions of this sort were not
uncommon. The scientific world view of the nineteenth century was
still centered in the Newtonian vision of a universe running like a colos-
sal clock.39 Since this model had served well in the development of
physics and since the industrial machine had indeed proven to be an
astounding force, the image of man as a machine was widely thought a
natural. For some thinkers this meant that homo sapiens was quite
literally ’-homme machine of the sort described by the eighteenth-
century philosopher Julien Offray de La Mettrie: ‘The human body is
a machine which winds its own springs. It is the living image of per-
petual movement.’ 49 In a totally mechanical universe, a mechanical
man is an appropriate microcosm. To this day, views of this kind live on
in the writings of Skinner, Woolridge, and others, accompanied by the
peculiar conviction that if human beings are in any way like machines,
then it follows that they either do or very well ought to behave totally
like mechanical devices.4! In the nineteenth century many of those
who took violent objection to this conception of humanity were con-

Artifice and Order 193

vinced that the masses of men had already become greatly mechanized
in their personal and social existence. Man’s relationship to the indus-
trial process, particularly to the machinery, organization, and tech-
niques of the factory, would eventually bring La Mettrie’s prophecy to
fruition in a remade human environment.42
The mid-twentieth century has brought the eclipse of the machine as
a model for everything under the sun. Too many recent developments
in science and technology—quantum physics, relativity, modern chem-
istry and biology, the alloys, plastics, the transistor—simply do not
match the two primary images of the older mechanical tradition:
Newton’s clockwork universe and the cog and wheel machine of nine-
teenth-century industry. Artifice has become more subtle. Many devices
properly called machines are no longer truly mechanical. Even Lewis
Mumford, who emphasizes the idea of society as machine, has changed
his emphasis to something called the “Power Complex.” What needs
expression is the idea of a set of large-scale, complex, interdependent,
functioning networks which form the basis of modern life; for this,
“the machine” will no longer suffice.43
But the decline of a metaphor does not mean that concerns it repre-

sented vanish. The possibility that man faces an unwitting bondage in
his relationships with technical systems is still a living hypothesis. Fa-
ther of this question in modern social philosophy was Jean Jacques

Rousseau. In the Discourses Rousseau placed himself in open disagree-

ment with the prevailing opinion of his time by arguing that the ad-

vance of the “farts and sciences’”’ was a degenerative rather than a pro-

gressive movement in history. Human existence, he believed, had long

ago reached something of a golden age in which men were free and

happy. But then there occurred a ‘fatal accident”4* (a chance dis-

covery or invention?) that brought a great revolution in metallurgy and

agriculture and thereby ‘“‘civilized men and ruined the human race.”45

“As soon as some men were needed to smelt and forge iron, other men
were needed to feed them. The more the number of workers was multi-

plied, the fewer hands were engaged in furnishing the common sub-
stance ...and since some needed foodstuffs in exchange for their iron,

Autonomous Technology 194

others finally found the secret of using iron in order to multiply food-
stuffs. From this arose husbandry and agriculture. ... From the culti-
vation of land, its division necessarily followed; and from property once
recognized, the first rules of justice.” 46 Rousseau held that by adapt-
ing their lives to this early technological revolution and to subsequent
ones, men had given up their original freedom and entered the enslaving
web of dependencies involved in a complex economic society.

A more familiar conception of how freedom is lost emphasizes the
presence of external restraints. The activity of an individual or group is
limited by an outside factor, such as the presence of a stronger force or
the restrictions of law. Much of liberal political philosophy attempts to
delineate the conditions under which such restraints are or are not justi-
fied. The theory of technological politics, however, follows Rousseau in
seeing the loss of freedom in the modern world as preeminently a
situation in which individuals become caught up in webs of relation-
ships which have a pathological completeness. Conditions of life for all
persons come to be inextricably tied to systems of transportation, com-
munication, material production, energy, and food supply for which
there are no readily available alternatives. An automobile or mass
transit network carries the person to work at a particular time every
day. The food he or she eats is grown by agribusiness concerns and
shipped in from a great distance and distributed by large chain super-
markets. Information about the world is available, prepackaged like the
food one eats, in television news programmed at a central source. For
all manner of day-to-day activities, apparatus like the telephone become
absolutely indispensable. Because in most instances the working of such
systems does not include the application of restraints, the problem of
human freedom as it involves extreme dependency and helplessness
seldom comes up.

Closely tied to the phenomenon of dependency is the situation of
servitude within technological relationships. The human encounter with
artificial means cannot be summarized solely (or even primarily) as a
matter of “‘use.’”? One must notice that certain kinds of regularized ser-
vice must be rendered to an instrument before it has any utility at all.

Artifice and Order 195

One must be aware of the patterns of behavior demanded of the individ-
ual or of society in order to accommodate the instrument within the life
process. There are, to put it differently, subtle but important costs as
well as obvious benefits. These costs, usually forgotten or thought “‘inevi-
table” by those who must bear them, are in the aggregate truly staggering.
An early analysis of such circumstances in microcosm appears in
Ralph Waldo Emerson’s Works and Days. ‘“‘Many facts concur to show,”
he says, “that we must look deeper for our salvation than to steam,
photographs, balloons, or astronomy. These tools have some ques-
tionable properties. They are reagents. Machinery is aggressive. The
weaver becomes a web, the machinist a machine. If you do not use the
tools, they use you.?47 Although Emerson employs the image of the
machine, his main point is not actually a standard “‘mechanization of
man”’ thesis. It is instead the idea that all toolsare “reagents”; they are
not a passive presence in a human situation but instead evoke a neces-
sary reaction from the person using them.48 Attachment to apparatus
not only requires that men behave in certain ways, it also gives them a
positive responsibility and criterion of performance they must meet.
‘““A man builds a fine house; and now he has a master, and a task for
life: he is to furnish, watch, show it and keep it in repair, the rest of his
days.’"49
Bruno Bettelheim offers a similar report from recent twentieth-
century experience. “In my daily work with psychotic children, and in
my efforts to create an institutional setting that will induce them to
return to sanity, I have come face to face with this problem of how to
take best advantage of all the conveniences of a technological age, ...
and to do it without entering a bondage to science and technology.” 59
Bettelheim goes on to describe how he learned to study the shaping
effect that any new device had upon the work of his institution.
“Whenever we introduced a new technological convenience, we had to
examine its place in the life of our institution most carefully. The
advantages we could enjoy from any new machine were always quite
obvious; the bondage we entered by using it was much harder to assess,
and much more elusive. Often we were unaware of its negative effects

Autonomous Technology 196

until after long use. By then we had come to rely on it so much, that
small disadvantages that came with the use of any one contrivance
seemed too trivial to warrant giving it up, or to change the pattern we
had fallen into by using it. Nevertheless, when combined with the many
other small disadvantages of all the other devices, it added up to a sig-
nificant and undesirable change in the pattern of our life and work.’’5}

Bettelheim’s statement reflects a level of awareness altogether rare in
contemporary writing, not to mention the practices of everyday life.
His eminently sensible conclusion, therefore, smacks of a certain radi-
calism: ‘‘The most careful thinking and planning is needed to enjoy the
good use of any technical contrivance without paying a price for it in
human freedom.”°2 Such sentiments are generally thought to be anti-
progressive and are ignored in most polite company. Rousseau’s views,
similarly, are widely believed to have been those of a romantic fool of
history who tried to build a wall against the ineluctable forces of
modernity.

The theme of technical servitude beeomes a major point in the
macrocosmic social theories of, among others, Thorstein Veblen and
Jacques Ellul. In such theories, the presence of modern technics is seen
to have both subtle and very obvious shaping effects on the whole range
of human behavior, consciousness, and social structure. Seen in their
totality, these effects do in fact constitute most of what is important
in the life of the individual and in all social relationships whatsoever.
Still using the machine model of this state of affairs, Veblen spoke of
“the cultural incidence of the machine process,” °3 an incidence he
took to be completely overwhelming. ‘‘The machine pervades the
modern life and dominates it in a mechanical sense. Its dominance is
seen in the enforcement of precise mechanical measurements and
adjustments and the reduction of all manner of things, purposes and
acts, necessities, conveniences, and amenities of life, to standard
units.”54 In Veblen’s eyes the most important single fact about this
state of affairs was that it brought a new and stringent “‘discipline’’ to
all human activities. A society based on the machine process took on
a rigid set of rules, responsibilities, and performance criteria much more

Artifice and Order 197

demanding of human substance and of social relationships than any-
thing known in previous history. Speaking of the effect on i
workman, Veblen notes: “It remains true, of course, ... that he is the
intelligent agent concerned in the process, while the machine, furnace
roadway, or retort are inanimate structures devised by man id siibjces
to the workman’s supervision. But the Process comprises him aa
intelligent motions, and it is by virtue of his necessarily taking an intel-
gent part in what is going forward that the mechanical process has
a chief effect upon him. The Process standardizes his supervision and
guidance of the machine. Mechanically speaking, the machine is not his
to do with it as his fancy may suggest. His place is to take thought of
ine machine and its work in terms given him by the Process that is
going forward. His thinking in the premises is reduced to standard
units of gauge and grade. If he fails of the precise measure, by more or
less, the exigencies of the Process check the aberration and drive home
the need of conformity.’ 55
Veblen argued that the advance of the new technological civilization
would displace all previous forms of culture. ‘The machine discipline,”
he observed, “acts to disintegrate the institutional heritage, of all de-
grees of antiquity and authenticity—whether it be the institutions that
embody the principles of natural liberty or those that comprise the resi-
due of more archaic principles of conduct still current in civilized
life.”56 While there is a lament implied in his observations, Veblen
certainly did not wish to stop the movement of an increasingly tech-
nologized society. He saw it as an inevitable development, sanctioned
By the fact that it was, after all, the true center of the modern condi-
tion and an improvement in man’s material circumstances, As we have
already seen, his criticisms came to rest on the contradictions present
in this evolving system, namely, that the persons best suited to operate
the machine culture—the engineers—were still subordinate to business-
men.
If one substitutes for the concept of ‘‘machine”’ that of “ technique e
the position Veblen announced is entirely similar to Ellul’s. Both eh
hold that the technological element has outgrown and absorbed the

Autonomous Technology 198

shell of civilization that once enclosed it.5? Both men assert that
individuals and societies do not rule technical means so much as accept
with strict obedience the rule that technical means themselves impose.
To describe the technological system, therefore, is to describe the true
system of governance under which men live.

Now, it is clear that the condition described by Emerson (the effects
of apparatus on the behavior and consciousness of the individual) and
Bettelheim (the effects of apparatus on a small group) are not entirely
analogous. The macrocosmic social theory is not merely a microcosmic
insight writ large. What is similar in these cases, however, is an emphasis
upon the context in which tools and instruments operate and have their
utility. Such statements ask us to consider what is required as well as
what is received in the activity of technical “use.” Technologies, we
noted earlier, are commonly thought to be neutral. The important con-
sideration is how they are used, and this is what permits us to judge
them. But, as Ellul points out, the matter of “‘use” may be entirely set-
tled before one can raise the question at all. “Technique is a use,” he
observes. “There is no difference at all between technique and its use.
The individual is faced with an exclusive choice, either to use the tech-
nique as it should be used according to the technical rules, or not to
use it at all.?58 In this assertion, the broader significance of Emerson’s
notion that tools are reagents becomes clearer. Complex instruments
come equipped with certain rules for their employment, which must be
obeyed. People are not at liberty to “use” the instruments in an arbi-
trary manner but must see to it that the appropriate operating proce-
dures and techniques are followed and that all of the material condi-
tions for operation are met. In modern civilization and its various parts,
great amounts of time, energy, and resources are expended in making
certain that the procedures are followed and that the conditions are
met. Of the meanings of autonomous technology that we have encoun-
tered so far, this is the most significant. The technological version of
Kantian heteronomy—the governance of human activity by external
rules or conditions—is present here as a thoroughgoing yet entirely

mundane phenomenon.

Artifice and Order 199

There is, of course, a vast multiplicity of such rules and conditions.
One might ask, Where are they stated and analyzed in detail? An appro-
priate place to start would be to examine all of the textbooks in engi-
neering, economics, management, and the various technical skill groups.
One obvious but perhaps unavoidable source of incompleteness in the
theory of technological politics is that much of the real substance of
what it tries to account for is buried in diverse teachings of this sort.
It is difficult to footnote or discuss that which is known, practiced, and
obeyed in thousands upon thousands of technical specialties.

Indeed, anyone seriously critical of conditions in the technological
society soon meets up with the demand from technically trained
persons that in order to speak at all, one must first ‘‘learn technology.”
A version of the mode of legitimation through expert knowledge, this
advice is, in my experience, usually less a plea for understanding than
an urging to compliance. Suggestions for learning of this sort are often
made to me at the institute of technology where I teach. They range
from the study of calculus, physics, or one of the branches of engineer-
ing proper—electrical, civil, mechanical—to a mastery of the techniques
of cost-benefit analysis, systems theory, and econometrics. I concede
the usefulness of knowing the real activities of such domains of practice
and have tried whenever possible to achieve the grasp appropriate to an
informed outsider. But given the fact that the specialized fields show
important differences in approach and content, the mastery of a par-
ticular representative specialty seems only superficially helpful to the
effort to comprehend broader situations in which technology is prob-
lematic. Those who suggest a technological education of this kind im-
plicitly ask that one undergo a process of socialization. “If you knew
what we’re doing, then you could not make such criticisms.” One
comes to appreciate and trust one’s professional brotherhood. One
comes to accept the virtue of such procedures as quantitive cost-benefit
analysis. And, above all, one learns to accept the grand wisdom of the
view that the world is a set of ‘“‘problems” awaiting technically refined
“solutions.”

In summary, life in a sophisticated technological order supposes that

Autonomous Technology 200

each collection of technical rules, procedures, and trained persons out-
side one’s own sphere of competence must be accepted as given. People
are content in the knowledge that things are as they are and that they
are in good working condition, and that in society everyone and every-
thing has a certain job to do and does it. And everyone, like every
thing, does not find occasion to inquire into this condition or to dis-
pute the manner in which it structures life.

Seen in this light—the ways in which technical rules and precondi-
tions influence human behavior—the traditional notion that technolo-
gies are merely neutral tools becomes problematic. Individuals may still
retain the noble idea that they can upon sudden inspiration direct the
technical means to whatever ends they choose. They tend to see com-
plex technologies as if they were handsaws or egg beaters. Give me a
board and I will saw it in half; give me the eggs and flour and I will
whip up a chocolate cake. But in highly developed technologies the
conditions that make the tool-use notion tenable seldom hold. The
technical equivalent of the Archimedean point—a place to put the lever
so that one can move the mechanism—is often missing.

Reasons for this state of affairs are apparent in the very nature of
modern technologies. Twentieth-century technical devices, as we have
described them here, are characterized by enormous size, complex
interconnection, and systemic interdependence. In terms of their own
internal structure, most of them require precise coordination of the
three major elements in our earlier definition. Apparatus almost always
requires refined technique: an elaborate, knowledgeable kind of human
practice to guarantee its successful working. In the great majority of
cases, however, both apparatus and technique require the presence of
well-developed, rational, social organization. The world of craftsman-
ship—the world of technique plus apparatus alone—has vanished. Appa-
ratus, technique, and organization are interdependent, that is,
reciprocally necessary for each other’s successful operation. This
condition has become the sine qua non of all higher technologies of
manufacturing, communications, transportation, agriculture, and
others. And while there are still small pockets where this kind of inter-

Artifice and Order 201

connected technology is not the rule, such cases are now out of the
ordinary.

Such circumstances are of special interest in the theory of techno-
logical politics, for two parts of the systemic arrangement—technique
and apparatus—require that persons in large numbers be induced to
behave according to precise technical principles. Through their ‘‘em-
ployment” such persons serve a specific function in an organization of
many coordinated functions. Since this employment is usually their
sole livelihood, there is strong pressure toward strict discipline and obe-
dience. One appears at a preestablished time, for precisely determined
work, for an exactly designated reward. This situation is so thoroughly
normal in the twentieth century that any sense of how it might be
otherwise is largely forgotten. In particular, persons so employed have
no sense that the design of the work situation or the character of its
operating procedures might be changed through their own conscious
intervention. Even more than the employer, technology itself is seen
as completely authoritative. It is an authority that asks for compliance
only and never anything more.

What meaning can the traditional tool-use conception have in this
context? Indeed, the structure of men and apparatus is ‘‘used” to pro-
duce something: goods or services for society. It can also be said that
the employees ‘‘use” vast technical networks to earn a living. But be-
yond that, the idea that such networks are merely neutral tools under
the control of men, to be used for chosen ends, begins to wear thin.
Seen as a way of ordering human activity, the total order of networks
is anything but neutral or tool-like. In its centrality to the daily activity

and consciousness of the ‘‘employee,” the function-serving human com-
ponent, the technical order is more properly thought of as a way of life.
Whatever else it may be, a way of life is certainly not neutral. Oppor-
tunities for ‘‘use” or ‘“‘control” that the human components have within
this system are minimal, for what kind of “‘control’’ is it that at every
step requires strict obedience to technique or the necessities of techni-
cal organization? One can say that the ‘‘control” is exercised from the
center or apex of the system; this is true, although we shall soon see

Autonomous Technology 202

that even this has a paradoxical character. But in terms of the function-
ing of individual components and the complex social interconnections,
“control” in the sense of autonomous individuals directing technical
means to predetermined ends has virtually no significance. ‘‘Control”
and “‘use” simply do not describe anything about relationships of this
kind. The direction of governance flows from the technical conditions
to people and their social arrangements, not the other way around.
What we find, then, is not a tool waiting passively to be used but a
technical ensemble that demands routinized behavior.

In this way of seeing, therefore, the tool-use model is a source of
illusions and misleading cues. We do not use technologies so much as
live them. One begins to think differently about tools when one notices
that the tools include persons as functioning parts. Highly developed,
complex technologies are tools without handles or, at least, with
handles of extremely remote access. Yet we continue to talk as if tele-
phone and electric systems were analogous in their employment to a
simple hand drill, as if an army were similar to an egg beater.

I am not saying that men and women never use technology or that
all ideas of use are nonsense, only that many of our most prevalent
conceptions here are primarily nostalgia. There was a golden age when
the hand was on the handle and alchemy was the queen of the sciences.
But except for the world of small-scale appliances, that time has passed.

The question addressed here can also be posed in terms of the idea
of extension. In Emerson’s words a full century before Marshall Mc-
Luhan, “The human body is the magazine of inventions, the patent-
office, where are the models from which every hint was taken. All the
tools and engines are only extensions of its limbs and senses. "59 But
remembering Emerson’s thoughts on tools as reagents we encounter a
puzzle. What is an extension of what? Looking at contemporary tech-
nologies one sees massive aggregations of human and nonhuman parts,
rationally ordered, working in precisely coordinated actions and trans-
actions. Men do indeed claim to be in control and to be the instigators
of all the motion. But if one considers the structure and behavior neces-
sary for such systems to exist at all, such claims are either incorrect or

ArtificeandOrder 203

ambiguous. When one discovers that people are subtly conditioned by
their apparatus, when one learns that their conduct is largely deter-
mined by preestablished function and learned technique, when one
finds that important social relationships are established according to
organizational rationality alone—then the idea of technology as con-
trolled extension becomes entirely misleading. Marx concluded that
men had become appendages of the machine in the factory system. In
a technical environment that is now more massive, more complete, and
more intricate, the conclusion takes on new poignancy.

One can appreciate how it is from this vantage point that automa-
tion—the displacement of men and women by machines—diminishes as
a problem. The crucial difficulty with the existing technological order is
not so much that individuals are “unemployed” by automatic proc-
esses (though, certainly, this is a source of grief for a significant mi-
nority) but that they are overemployed in ways destructive to their
humanity. Marcuse argues that advanced industrial societies do in fact
suffer from incomplete and imperfect automation. The productive sys-
tem still employs human beings as its prime components. ‘‘This is,”
he says, “the pure form of servitude: to exist as an instrument, as a
thing.””60 If truly complete automized apparatus were introduced into
society, this servitude could be ended for all time. ‘Automation, once
it became the process of material production, would revolutionize the
whole society. The reification of human labor power, driven to perfec-
tion would shatter the reified form by cutting the chain that ties the
individual to the machinery—the mechanisms through which his own
labor enslaves him.”6! Under the existing system of things, however,
automation stands as a threat that the managers of the industrial order
hold over their employees as a way of extracting even more toil from
them. “‘At the present stage of advance capitalism,” Marcuse writes,
“organized labor rightly opposes automation without compensating
employment.” Labor is thus forced to struggle against its ultimate
means of liberation. In this fashion, ‘‘The enslavement of man by the
instruments of his labor continues in a highly rationalized and vastly

efficient and promising form.’’62

Autonomous Technology 204

Observations and arguments of this kind form the basis of one of the
more surprising themes in the literature of technological politics: the
myth of labor-saving technology. No one denies that techniques and in-
struments save time and effort in the performance of specific tasks.
And no one denies that the collectivity of such devices enables a society
to do things it otherwise could not accomplish or to accomplish them
more economically. But one can ask whether the technical innovations
added to civilization in the last two hundred years or so have in every
case ‘‘saved labor’ in the sense of lightening man’s toil.

Since Marx we have known why this question must be asked in
terms of ‘“‘whose labor?” and ‘‘under what conditions in society?”
Eli Whitney’s cotton gin was a marvelous labor-saving device. Yet its
introduction into the system of production in the South actually pro-
longed slavery and increased the degree of toil extracted from the
slaves. The factory system was also a labor-saving innovation, yet there
is good evidence that it increased the hours, exertion, and suffering of
the workers in the early years of the industrial revolution.©3 Marx’s
analysis of how such things occur is well known to the reader. What is
of interest here is that there exists a distinctive explanation of. this
phenomenon from the technological perspective. Many have argued
that the very nature of advanced technologies—putting aside the matter
of ownership and class structure—demands much more of the human
being than any previous productive arrangement. The technological
order, no matter who owns it, is not very efficient at allowing men

and women to bank the labor that techniques and instruments have
saved. A classic, albeit excessive, statement of this view is found in
Friedrich Georg Juenger’s The Failure of Technology. ‘‘Never and no-
where,” Juenger argues, ‘does machine labor reduce the amount of
manual labor, however large may be the number of workers tending
machines. The machine replaces the worker only where the work can be
done in a mechanical fashion. But the burden of which the worker is
thus relieved does not vanish at the command of the technical magi-
ican. It is merely shifted to areas where work cannot be done. mechani-

Artifice and Order 205

cally. And, of course, this burden grows apace with the increase of
mechanical work.” 64

Juenger’s account goes astray in its exclusive emphasis upon the
situation of manual labor. Developments in machinery have not had the
uniform impact he supposes. Labor-saving devices and automation have
eliminated certain tasks, refined others, and created whole new voca-
tional categories. But the broader point that underlies his contention
is both valid and significant. Under the relentless pressure of technologi-
cal processes, the activities of human life in modern society take place
at an extremely demanding cadence. Highly productive, fast-moving,
intensive, precision systems require highly productive, fast-moving, in-
tense, and precise human participants. The computer has been an espe-
cially powerful goad in this direction. Its capacity to do prodigious
amounts of work in a very short time puts the humans in the “‘inter-
face” in a frantic struggle to keep up. The virtues of slow information
processing and labor done at a leisurely pace have long since been sac-
rificed to the norms of work appropriate to the electronic exemplar.
The idea that a task is something to be pondered or even savored is
entirely foreign to this mode of activity. A telephone call and instan-
taneous computer check can reserve a room in any of thousands of
hotels and motels in a particular network. Since dozens of similar trans-
actions are completed each hour, the employee who does the job can-
not spend more than a few moments on any particular request, al-
though certain superficially courteous catchwords may still be part of
the rationalized process. What one no longer expects is the innkeeper’s
handwritten note, received after a characteristic three weeks’ delay,
which remembers some small detail of your last year’s visit.

Pressures of pace are not, however, limited to work environments.
They now include the full spectrum of activity involving travel, com-
munication, leisure time, and consumption. Hannah Arendt notes a
shift in the focus of human energy that has taken place in the twen-
tieth century. ‘‘The two stages through which the ever-recurrent cycle
of biological life must pass, the stages of labor and consumption, may

Autonomous Technology 206

change their proportion even to the point where nearly all human ‘labor
power’ is spent in consuming.’”65 It is the intensity of the combined
activities of labor and leisure that Jules Henry has labeled the “‘techno-
logical drivenness” of modern culture.©6 With Kenneth Keniston,
Henry links this phenomenon to the rapidity of technological change.
But the connection between pace of work and rate of innovation is
by no means a necessary one. Technologies need not be changing
rapidly to demand high performance and a rapid tempo of existence.

It is true that technological society is not the first kind of organiza-
tion to have placed heavy demands upon its members. There is always
a price to be paid for culture, for social order, and material well-being.
A question raised by the theory of technological politics, however, is
whether the price now extracted goes far beyond reasonable limits.
How much servitude to technical means is too much? At what point
does dependency upon complex systems become a condition of virtual
enslavement? The search for criteria upon which one might begin mak-
ing judgments on these questions offers a rich but as yet relatively
poorly explored field of inquiry. Marcuse addresses the issue head on
from one direction. He argues that the burdens of civilization as mea-
sured by “surplus repression”—“the restrictions necessitated by social
domination” above and beyond “the modifications of the instincts
necessary for the perpetuation of the human race in civilization” —are
now greater than in any previous historical period. §7 The lid upon
man’s erotic instincts has been screwed down tighter than ever, far be-
yond any reasonable obedience to the reality principle. Ellul renounces
Marcuse’s Freudian outlook on the matter.68 But he agrees that the
technological order subjects man to pressures and limitations that are
clearly pathological. Not without nostalgia, Ellul describes a condition
“common to all civilizations up to the eighteenth century” in which
techniques were local and limited, a part of culture rather than its
whole.69 “Man worked as little as possible and was content with a
restricted consumption of goods... a prevalent attitude, which limits
both techniques of production and techniques of consumption.” 79

Artifice and Order 207

This state was abandoned when men in Western society perceived the
inestimable boon that la technique promised.

Whether explicitly stated or strongly implied by those who adopt its
vantage point, the theory of technological politics always proceeds with
an understanding of limits. Its criticisms point to a boundary beyond
which technical artifice no longer enables or liberates mankind. In its
evolution, technology arrives at a turning point after which it tends to
thwart rather than facilitate the building of an emancipated society.
The problem of specifying more clearly what the conditions of human
liberation and social emancipation might be is an ambitious project, one
that I shall only be able to touch upon briefly in the last chapter. Most
of the analysis at this point must attend, perhaps even to a fault, to cir-
cumstances of pathology and excess—a corrective to the dewy-eyed
traditional assumptions about tools, mastery, and endless benefit.

One is entitled to ask how much of the condition described enters
the awareness of persons who live in this world. Do they notice the
costs? The answer must be a qualified “‘yes.”’ In one sense, there is
nothing that men and women who live and work in the technological
society understand better than the basic conditions which enable
this system to function. But their awareness has an intuitive, largely
passive quality. The influence of large-scale technical networks is so
pervasive and indelible that few of us find occasion to wonder at their
effects. We know that “this is how things work.” We know that “this is
how I do my job.” The technological order includes a notion of citizen-

ship, which consists in serving one’s own function well and not meddl-
ing with the mechanism.

In general, then, we live with the costs and do not make the connec-
tions as to their origin. Thus, a yawning crevasse opens between the
dream of progress and its fulfillment. Men convince themselves, as Ellul
points out, that they are about to enter a paradise ‘“‘in which everything
would be at the disposal of everyone, in which men, replaced by the
machine, would have only pleasures and play.”7! “In practice, things

have not turned out to be so simple. Man is not yet relieved of the bru-

Autonomous Technology 210

characteristic apothegms Ellul observes, . ‘Technique advocates the
entire remaking of life and its framework because they have been
badly made.” 76

In our accustomed ways of thinking, technologies are evaluated in
terms of promise and product. Improvement, usually defined by some
highly specific goal, is the subject of concern. The theory of techno-
logical politics, however, looks for meaning in questions which have
been buried in the process of technical advance. Among the most im-
portant of these concern qualities sacrificed in technical modification.
Things taken apart and reassembled or resynthesized are never the same
as before the process took place. Something—functional performance—
is gained. But something is also given up. Very often one does not know
in advance how great the toll will be.

One way to begin thinking about the sacrifice of qualities is to
notice that the success of technology is almost always the victory of
artificial complexity over natural complexity. Technological structures
and processes are built from complex systems in nature that have been
altered in such a way that their substance can be put to use. Altera-
tions of this sort are frequently made with the idea of making things
simpler than they had been before. But we have already seen how sim-
plifications on the scale now attempted actually involve very complex
linkages. As technology advances, a world of artificial structures
replaces the world of complex structures given in nature; thus, people
no longer live in anything remotely resembling a natural setting. 77
Technologies are present not only in their specific work but also as a
generalized environment for human existence. Taking this point of
view, two important questions arise. Which qualities are permanently
altered or destroyed by the modification of natural structures? Which
new qualities are created, including those neither expected nor desired,
by the new structures?

The concept of “nature” here, however, is actually not sufficient for
the point to be made. Sometimes one does wish to speak of the modifi-
cation of things which are in the true sense natural—minerals, metals,
plant and animal life, ecosystems, and the other elements and patterns

Artifice and Order 211

given in nature. The familiar argument of the ecologists is that many
natural systems can be modified only at great peril. This is due spe-
cifically to the rich complexity of such systems that man does not fully
comprehend or, if he does, ought to respect. Tampering with the
natural arrangement, the argument goes, often entails costs or risks that
may prove to be highly unfortunate.

In other instances, however, the issue has nothing to do with ‘‘na-
ture” in its proper meaning at all. The concern is, instead, with the sub-
stance of human culture and human character and the ways in which
this substance is transformed, either directly or indirectly, by techno-
logical modifications. I am referring here to the changes which take
place in ordinary language, traditional social institutions, earlier kinds
of artifacts, human identity, personality, and conduct through the di-
rect intervention of modern technics. Again, the view often taken in
theories of technological politics is that important qualities of human
life are sacrificed in this process while new, usually less desirable
qualities are substituted.

Consider, for example, the encounter of an individual with his work
“role” in an organization. The whole person in its rich complexity of
talents, needs, interests, and commitments is of no use in the per-
formance of the role. Instead, only certain selected traits, often created
by the role itself and unknown in the life of the individual previously,
are demanded by the organization. For much of any given day, there-
fore, the complex character of the whole person is deliberately con-
tained. Much the same can be said of groups and individuals who en-
counter bureaucratic techniques. A wide variety of problems, needs,
requests, and complaints meet up with the ‘‘form”’ through which they
must be communicated. But the efficiency of the form is geared to
bureaucratic processes. It does not aim at being faithful to the original
feelings and expressions of the persons involved. Thus, much of what
was perhaps most crucial in the original situation is simply denied.
There is a considerable difference between what human life contains
and what technology requires or permits—at first.

One very common but drastically unhelpful way of thinking about

Autonomous Technology 212

the matter centers on the conclusion that certain technical innovations
are inherently “dehumanizing,” that they violate the essence of man. In
most statements of this position the question of what is truly human is
never explicitly addressed. If one finds truth in the view present in
Marx as well as in modern anthropology that ‘man makes himself,”
then the plea to an unspecified human essence becomes flimsy indeed.
On what grounds can one say that women and men of the twentieth
century are any “less human” than those of the nineteenth century
or any other previous era?’8 The concept of dehumanization is at once
too specif ic—calling attention to transformations in humans only—and
too vague, begging the question of what “distinctively human” actually
is.

But a different formulation can salvage the problem which the
abused concept tries to identify. Speaking. of human character and cul-
ture it is misleading to say that artificial complexity triumphs over
“natural” complexity. Neither are we justified in concluding that the
technological displaces the purely nontechnological. A better way of
expressing the point is this: More highly developed, rational-artificial
structures tend to overwhelm and replace less well-developed forms of
life. In modern history this process has affected virtually every corner
of human existence. An entity that was well established in a sphere of
practice, thoroughly useful, rich in its complex relationships in the
world but not rigorously planned or rationally arranged meets a highly
productive technology with a rationalized complexity of its own. If
the encounter between the two entities is purposive—that is, if there
is a specific end to be accomplished—then the less well-developed form
of life, all things being equal, must yield. Its existence and structure
may make sense within the broader spectrum of life’s activities but fail
utterly in the new specified performance required. The structure of the
entity—whether it be an implement, a way of speaking, a way of think-
ing, a mode of behavior, a pattern of work, a social institution, a cus-
tom—is interrupted and reconstructed to suit the requirements of the
new arrangement of which it is to become a part. Or it is simply re-
placed. What is cut out in this process, what is lopped off, inadvertently

Artifice and Order 213

damaged, or permanently excluded may never reach anyone’s aware-
ness. Sometimes the awareness may be present, but calculations of
cost and benefit accompanying the alteration stipulate that the price
is worth it. An urban renewal high-rise is better than an old ee in
section of the city; prepackaged frozen foods are aieferibie to ie :
prepared at home; programmed learning is superior to the iia
of the teacher and classroom. With increasing frequency the anal mn
and <cleplanons upon which such choices are made are eave
manifestations of a variety of transforming technical artifice, a thor-
uel technicized way of handling the formerly Aonteenieal activity
oe Thus, in an important sense, the issue and outcome are
One can of course imagine technologies which do not do this—do
net cut, shred, rearrange, or lop off significant previously existing quali
ties. One can even imagine techniques whose main purpose paid i *
respect or even enhance these qualities. But for the most Part, these a
not the procedures that we currently find useful. .
One of the few scholars ever to tackle questions of this kind on
broad scale was the Swiss historian of architecture, Siegfried Giedi ‘
His Mechanization Takes Command was a preliminary eva rane
whet he hoped would be a thorough-going “anonymous history of our
ee ee aon Me as affected by mechanization.” 79
means have outgrown man,” and he
sought to demonstrate how this was true in the progress of technical
appatatus and procedures, as well as their products. His book is
oe catalog of the ways in which artificially complex eenaee
sg ii and modify the structures of nature, society, and human be-
Sicdicn finds the crux of the world-transforming process in me-
chanieal, artificial‘ patterns of matter in motion. For example, Frederick
male Taylor’s scientific management time and lation aise as
eee e uae me juxtaposed, with some irony, with a description of
ae ee : ae pain foe Use in Packing Houses.”89
s that things are altered so that they can

Autonomous Technology 214

be moved efficiently from one place to another. In this regard he finds
the basic principle of all mechanization “in replacing the to-and-fro
action of the hand by continuous rotary movement.” 8! Giedion traces
developments of this kind in a wide variety of examples from agricul-
ture, the industrial assembly line, household appliances, furniture, and
other spheres. While most of his analysis is posed in terms of the ma-
chine model, he is aware (in 1948) that present and impending tech-
nologies will strike off in different directions. There is a new epoch
coming, he concludes, ‘“‘whose trend is away from the mechanical. It
centers... around man’s intervention with organic substance. Animals
and plants are to be changed in their structure and in their nature.” 82

The strength of Giedion’s discussion is its sensitivity to the subtle
alterations that take place in the life of the individual and society
through mechanical innovation. He pays considerable attention, for
example, to the mechanization of the bath and its role in social inter-
course. Bathing, he argues, has been useful historically in two different
ways—as the external ablution of separate individuals or as a common
social event aimed at total regeneration. ‘‘This century, in the time of
full mechanization, created the bath-cell, which, with its complex
plumbing, enameled tub, and chromium taps, it appended to the bed-
room.” This arrangement, of course, has no thought of bathing as a
social institution or a means of regeneration. ‘“‘A period like ours,
which has allowed itself to become dominated by production, finds no
time in its rhythms for institutions of this kind.” 83

Once underway, the technological reconstruction of the world tends
to continue without limit. The world moves in transition between two
different states of equilibrium. Complete renovation of reality will not
cease until the equilibrium of a thoroughly technological world order is
established. Ellul argues that at the birth of this process in the eigh-
teenth century, modern technique stood face to face with circumstances
totally unsuited for its existence. Traditional culture contained all of
the wrong things—the wrong social institutions, the wrong language, the
wrong ideas, the wrong tools, and the wrong procedures. The history of
the past two centuries amounts to a gradual retailoring of the universe

Artifice andOrder 215

as an appropriate host for the technical phenomenon. ‘Technique
effects its whole operation with completeness,” he observes. “It Is
useless to set limits to it or seek some other mode of procedure,'’84
“There is no accommodation with technique. It is rigid in its nature and
proceeds directly to its end. It can be accepted or rejected. If it la
accepted, subjection to its laws necessarily follows.”85 When Ellul
argues this position carefully, when he transcends his reductionist bent
and verbal mystification, his case rests on the conflict of complexities
of the kind we have just seen.

Ellul’s analysis of contemporary techniques of public opinion
measurement is a good illustration. ‘This system,” he observes, ‘‘brings
into the statistical realm measures of things hitherto unmeasurable,”
At the same time, the method “‘effects a separation of what is measur-
able from what is not.” ‘‘Whatever cannot be expressed numerically is
to be eliminated from the ensemble, either because it eludes numera-
tion or because it is quantitatively negligible.” 86 Opinions that can be
measured are transformed into aggregate statistical expressions. Those
defying such expression are simply not included. For Ellul, this
amounts to a “procedure for elimination of aberrant opinions,” an
unintended side product of opinion methodology. Ellul concludes, ‘No
activity can embrace the whole complexity of reality except as a given
method permits. For this reason, this elimination procedure is found
whenever the results of opinion probings are employed in political

economy.””87

Experiences that lend support to the point are now common in
everyday life. In a recent encounter I was visited by an opinion re-
searcher who wanted to discover my ‘‘attitudes about the gas com-
pany.” Thinking for a moment I replied, ‘I’m not sure I have any atti-
tudes about that.” ‘‘Well,” he said, “let me ask you some questions.”
The man removed a printed form from his briefcase and announced,
“How would you respond to the statement: ‘Employees of the gas
company are prompt and courteous’? Strongly agree, agree, disagree,
strongly disagree, or no opinion?’”’ Answering to the meticulously pat-
terned set of queries, my attitudes were in a true sense created right

Autonomous Technology 216

there on the spot. After an item that asked me to rate the gas com-
pany’s overall service, I explained that I did have some strong views on
public utilities in general, mainly having to do with the fact that in the
United States they are still privately owned. His questionnaire had no
way of recording those opinions, much less the reasons behind them.
Yet somewhere, I am certain, my responses, put together with thou-
sands of others, will be counted as adequate ‘feedback from the
public,” guiding a better administered firm.

Giedion and Ellul trace the process of transformation and elimina-
tion through a herd of examples covering many kinds of activities and
products. Both find it significant, for instance, that a simple product
like bread had its qualities so radically transformed to accord with the
needs of factory production. The multiplication of such illustrations,
sometimes bordering on tedium, is an important part of the demonstra-
tion; for even though one cannot examine each instance of the trans-
formation described, one can understand that it is a very general proc-
ess, perhaps even a total one.

Of all the things inappropriate to the man-made environment of the
modern age, none is so inappropriate as man himself. ‘‘“He must adapt
himself,” Ellul comments, ‘‘as though the world were new, to a uni-
verse for which he was not created.’’88 Some of the adaptation takes
place through deliberate manipulation with social-psychological
methods, drugs, propaganda, and other “human techniques.” 89 Much
of it, however, occurs through a quiet, personal adjustment of each
individual’s behavior, attitudes, ideas, needs, and commitments to the
world that surrounds him. Ellul holds that what emerges from these
modifications is a human “type” uniquely suited to the technological
society—a person who performs a particular work role efficiently, helps
improve the technological ensemble whenever possible, willingly re-
ceives the pleasures granted, and never raises any serious objections to
the conditions under which he or she lives. “It is to be understood... Pas
Ellul adds, “that there is no absolute obligation for the individual to
conform to the type. He can, if he will, despise it. But then he will
always find himself in an inferior position, vis-a-vis the type, whenever

Artifice and Order 217

the two come into competition. Our human techniques must therefore
result in the complete conditioning of human behavior.”99

Technical adaptation, then, is in part voluntary, but in some ways
it is forced upon the individual. The ultimate means of enforcement is
competition among forms of life, a contest which extends throughout
the whole of culture, not just the economy. One may, if one wishes,
isolate a certain trait or activity for preservation against the influence of
technique. But in the end, if that entity plays no role in the technical
ensemble, it must either perish or become a mere museum piece. That
which is eliminated from the technological order soon appears unreal,
That which cannot contribute to the realm of efficient operations is
made to seem utterly fantastic.

In its vision of mankind retreating under the technical onslaught, the
theory reveals its actual, deeper pessimism, as opposed to the superficial
gloom usually attributed to the critique of technological society.
Notable pessimists of the past—Diogenes, Seneca, Schopenhauer,
Samuel Clemens—thought the human race to be a hopeless, irre-
deemable species because it could never significantly change. Human
nature was seen as fixed and unalterable, always and everywhere the
same. Therefore, all attempts to improve mankind were doomed; the
indelible human quality with all of its ghastly shortcomings would al-
ways win out. The philosophical optimists in the tradition of Western
thought have, on the other hand, argued that mankind is capable of
positive change. Through proper education or modification of social
circumstances, one may expect that a distinctly better human variety
will be produced.

The theory of technological politics gives this controversy an odd
twist. Ellul, for example, does not side with the pessimists’ contention
that human nature is debased and unchangeable. On the contrary, he
accepts the notion that all of the qualities of man are subject to radi-
cal modification and ‘‘improvement.” But, as Rousseau pointed out
two centuries earlier, this trait of perfectibility is precisely the source
of man’s downfall. Because mankind is totally malleable, it is totally
defenseless against any and all attempts to operate on the human

Autonomous Technology 218

character. Ellul’s regret comes in noticing that the vaunted improve-
ments are in fact narrowly conceived and made without proper knowl-
edge of or respect for what existed in the original. His eye here is that
of a Christian theologian. Through his rendering of psychological,
sociological, and political scientific data we can see Ellul’s conviction
that the rich and marvelous complexity of God’s creation, including the
human species, is being supplanted by this reckless, rigid complexity of
a myriad of harebrained schemes. Technique in his view is truly sin,
exactly the kind of sin one would expect from a being that had eaten
of the tree of knowledge. But the tree of absolute knowledge and the
works that spring from it carry the marks of an inevitable ignorance.
“For we never know whether there is not something in man which our
analyses and scientific apparatus are unable to grasp.”91 Thus, as Karl
Jaspers also observed, man lives in a world of self-created imperfections,
many of which become an integral part of his character, yet he believes
and cannot be convinced otherwise that technology is perfect.92

There are ironic passages in Ellul’s writing where he notes that
knowledge occasionally catches up with technological action just in
time to show what is being lost. One such instance is the case of “‘eco-
nomic. man.” Ellul argues that this person was at the outset a purely
theoretical construct of nineteenth- and twentieth-century economists.
But now, he says, “The human being is changing slowly under the pres-
sure of the economic milieu; he is in process of becoming the uncompli-
cated being the liberal economist constructed.” 93 Man has actually be-
come homo economus, the producing, consuming creature described by
the model. All of his traits other than those appropriate to economic-
technical performance are now devalued and vanishing. But, as chance
would have it, these developments occur ‘“‘at a time when the theoreti-
cal economist is beginning to take account of the real complexity of
man, a complexity which, however, man is in the process of losing (if
he has not already lost it altogether). The result is that the modem
economist still runs the risk of theorizing about an abstraction because
he is speaking of a man philosophically conceived or of some historical

Artifice and Order 219

or traditional image.” 94 Like Orpheus turning to gaze at Eurydice,
what we see is a faint image rapidly receding into nothingness.

It is important to add that an awareness of the transforming, incor-
porating aspects of technological refinement is not the sole property
of the critics of technological society. Among certain technical profes-
sions it has become an item of pride that the building of a new system
entails complete retailoring of the forms of life that 'the system touches.
In his study of computers and management, Michael Rose explains:
“The most important of specialisms are those of the people who reduce
the complexities of a commercial or manufacturing process to an ex-
plicit routine, who transform such routines to sets of detailed instruc-
tions to the machine, or who supervise the work af those engaged on
these tasks and take general responsibility for advancing the progress of
a computerization project.”95 “A proficient systems man,” he notes,
“has always been as much a designer as an analyst, not merely establish-
ing a model of the system as it exists but reshaping it into a new and
more effective, computer-oriented information flow.” 96 Indeed, theory
we are considering could well be pieced together from ideas and obser-
vations of the engineers themselves rather than from the writings of phi-
losophers. The point is, however, that engineers themselves seem un-
willing to ponder their work from any general political or philosophical

Perspective and even seem to resent the fact that Ellul, Mumford,

Marcuse, and others have taken up the task.97

It goes without saying that ideas of the kind we are examining pre-
sent a rich field for -the intellectual historian. They bear a definite
resemblance to the belief of many poets and playwrights of the early
nineteenth century that the essential wholeness of the world faced im-
minent destruction at the hands of liberal, bourgeois, rational, utili-
tarian society.28 Views of this sort were especially prevalent among
German writers of that period and later experienced a revival in the
drama, poetry, philosophy, and social criticism of the Weimar Repub-
lic.99 Several of the writers one could list as theorists of technological
politics—Juenger, Heidegger, and Jaspers, for example—were clearly

Autonomous Technology 220

influenced by the earlier, anti-Enlightenment thought of Friedrich
Hélderlin and others. Twentieth-century critics of technological society
are not without precursors.

But in the work at hand, I have chosen not to engage in the search
for distant roots or lines of intellectual influence. Someday, I expect,
this will be done in a different sort of book. But since I want above all
to treat these themes as problems relevant to our immediate situation,
I must leave the details of an intellectual history to someone with a
different project.

Our treatment of technological transformation still leaves one sig-
nificant aspect of the phenomenon untouched: its mode of enforce-
ment. The theory holds that once something is restructured and incor-
porated into the technical ensemble, it becomes an active part of the
defense of the entire system. Neither the technological order nor any of
its significant parts can long tolerate opposition, defective performance,
or idiosyncrasy. Such characteristics are dysfunctional; left unchecked
they tend to breed the disorder of apraxia within the system of inter-
dependent parts. Protection against them is sometimes enacted through
force—the objectionable part of activity is rooted out and done away
with. But a more common and more important response involves no
use of overt force at all. In the normal working of things, sources of
opposition or idiosyncrasy are simply isolated, neutralized, and then
reincorporated as functional parts of the order itself. ;

An account of this process lies at the heart of Herbert Marcuse's
discussion of one-dimensional man in technological society. The course
af modern history, he argues, has produced a social system, a languages
a way of knowing, and a human temperament that permit no. lasting
opposition. The dialectical forces in historical thought and social exes
tence Hegel and Marx described have been modified by the unrelenting
process of modern technological transformation. Where one formerly
would have found the creative clash of opposites, one now rocouns
a repetitive reaffirmation of efficient, productive technical solutions in
a superficially pleasant world. The multidimensional structures of man
and society in previous history—pregnant with revolutionary possi-

Artifice and Order 221

bilities—have been supplanted by one-dimensional structures appropri-
ate to standardized, functional designs. Most notable of the entities
neutralized by this condition is none other than the proletariat, whose
opposition, according to the Marxist vision, was counted upon to turn
the technological nightmare of capitalism into the technological utopia
of communist society. In Marcuse’s view, “‘The new technological work-
world... enforces a weakening of the negative position of the working
class: the latter no longer appears to be the living contradiction to the
established society.” 100 But even more significant than this is the fact
that the technological universe has absorbed and directed to its own
purposes every conceivable variety of opposition, not merely those of
proletarian origin. Mentioning the alternatives supposedly offered by
metaphysics, spiritual occupations, existentialism and bohemian life
styles, Marcuse comments, “Such modes of protest and transcendence
are no longer contradictory to the status quo and no longer negative.
They are rather the ceremonial part of practical behaviorism, its harm-
less negation, and are quickly digested by the status quo as part of its
healthy diet.” 101 Co-opted, popularized, and made socially acceptable,
deviance is a useful safety valve for a society, one of whose remaining
problems is psychological tension.

As the means of technological domination have become more exten-
sive, so have they grown more subtle. For Marcuse, as for Ellul, the en-
forcement of the new world order is carried very lightly within each
individual and within every activity of human culture. There is no need
for terror or violence to bring about compliance. The adaptation of
men has been thorough. Each person simply obeys the performance
criteria appropriate to his station and happily receives the promised
rewards: security, leisure, and material goods. The technological society
is one in which obvious social ‘‘needs”’ are fully taken care of. Even the
desire for freedom is preserved in the arena of consumer preference.
Shopping centers become the public space for the exercise of human
liberty. Through a wonderful coincidence (which we shall examine
later) the free choices produce an aggregate ‘“‘demand,” which matches
exactly what the system of production is best able to provide. The only

Autonomous Technology 222

political questions that remain are those of distribution. Marcuse and
Ellul note that there are still important differences in the distribution
of wealth and privilege within the system; but these do not cause major
conflicts—certainly no revolutionary disorders—since most people are
sufficiently satisfied in their needs to ignore inequalities of class. Given
a large enough slice, men do not worry much about comparisons or
about the origins or nature of the pie.

But even if one did have a mind to raise political questions of a
different sort—questions about the structure of this order or its desira-
bility as a way of life—it would be virtually impossible, for the very lan-
guage that one could use to think about and communicate these con-
cerns is itself a one-dimensional medium, which subtly undermines any
attempt to raise serious questions in opposition. Marcuse is especially
emphatic on this point. He finds in the styles of discourse of posi-
tivism, behaviorism, functionalism, operationalism, orthodox social
science, and advertising a uniform tendency to turn everything thought
or spoken into a fruitful affirmation of the technological universe.
All thinking of a different inclination is subverted or jammed by a
harmonious structure of positive language, which insists that a thing
can be described in terms of its function. ‘‘This language controls by
reducing the linguistic forms and symbols of reflection, abstraction,
development, contradiction; by substituting images for concepts. It
denies or absorbs the transcendent vocabulary; it does not search for
but establishes and imposes truth and falsehood.” 102 “Functional
communication is only the outer layer of the one-dimensional universe
in which man is trained to forget—to translate the negative into the
positive so that he can continue to function, reduced but fit and rea-
sonably well.” 103

Unfortunately, in making his point Marcuse overshoots the mark,
for he includes among the proponents of one-dimensional thinking
British and American ordinary-language philosophers, one of whose
primary accomplishments has been to demonstrate the rich multi-
dimensionality of natural language and to employ it as a key to the
investigation of philosophical questions. Marcuse’s opinion appears to

Artifice and Order 223

be that the only exceptions to the homogenization of speech are to be
found among those who employ the linguistic fashions of Hegel, Marx,
and the Frankfurt Institute for Social Research. The interesting modes
of criticism found in Wittgenstein, J. L. Austin, and other ordinary-
language philosophers evidently do not count.

The argument is more appropriately aimed at the widespread influ-
ence of systems theory upon contemporary thought. Here the level-
ing, neutralizing tendency that Marcuse describes is strongly present.
Central to the various manifestations of the systems approach is the
attempt to describe with total economy the structure and per-
formance of self-regulating systems whose telos is a state of equilib-
rium. Sources of conflict, disruption, or opposition are defined as dys-
functional states, aberrations to be overcome as soon as possible.
Systems analysis, furthermore, tends to disregard the complexities of
ordinary language in talking about human situations and social institu-
tions. A substitute set of terms borrowed wholesale from modern
engineering—input, output, hardware, software, interface, feedback,
programming—is considered adequate to express anything of impor-
tance. Combined with the block diagram, flow chart model of the
universe and its parts, this approach amounts to a singleminded vision
of reality, perhaps the modern vision. “‘There seems to be no substitute
for or no equivalent to the block diagram,” remarks one of the
enthusiasts of this school, ‘‘as a technique for defining and communi-

cating what is required at all levels, from broad objectives to detailed

physical solutions.” 104

Those who now unconsciously employ such terms as “input” and
“feedback”’ to refer to human communication forget the origins of such
words and the baggage in meaning and sensibility that they carry.
Feedback, some will be surprised to discover, is not the same as a
response. Over the past two decades the language and mentality of sys-
tems analysis have become an increasingly central part of political
awareness in advanced industrial nations.195 A comparison of the
modes of expression in public discussions of our own time to those of
the 1930s reveals the direction of the drift. In the earlier period

Autonomous Technology 224

political language included a substantial emphasis upon the moral
concerns of a community suffering certain difficulties. Looking at
issues of unemployment, hunger, old age, and human welfare, public
spokesmen were apt to raise questions about the “responsibilities” or
“obligations” of the society to persons in need. Today the tendency is
to see such problems as those of the malfunctioning of a complex social
mechanism requiring new “incentive structures” and other “policy
tools” to bring the system back to proper order.196 The traditional
language of morality and politics is employed less and less in such ac-
counts and is even seen as an embarrassment. Instead, an educated per-
son is expected to talk and write in the hollow, pseudo-precision of a
bizarre tongue which reflects the life of pure instrumentality, to wit:
“Estimates of income allocation parameters in lower socio-economic
strata indicate trade-off options marked by budgetary constraints.” 197

It is important to notice that the problem we are considering here
has nothing to do with the traditional notion of ‘‘use” and “misuse.”
Technological transformation occurs prior to any ‘‘use,” good or ill,
and takes place as a consequence of the construction and operating
design of technological systems. The phenomenon is found where an
instrument is taking shape as an instrument but before the time when
the instrument is employed to do anything. Technological transfor-
mation, whether by deliberate action or unconscious adaptation, is an
essential part of any modern technology’s preparation for performance.
This does not mean that the instrument cannot be judged as to whether
it is used well or poorly for good or for evil. It does suggest, however,
that by the time the issue of ‘“‘use’’ comes up for consideration at all,
many of the most interesting questions involved in how technologies
are constituted and how they affect what we do are settled or sub-
merged. The question: ‘‘Was it used well or badly?” is in this sense like
asking, “‘Who’s at the bat?” long after the game is over and the score
recorded. For this reason, it becomes of paramount importance to
examine the structure of technologies, as well as the goals of their

employment. 108

Artifice and Order 225

In focusing upon matters of this sort, our theory faces the objection
that it is merely antitechnical and antitechnician. Its position, some
would maintain, amounts to nothing more than the idea that tech-
nology in all of its forms is bad and ought to be avoided.!99 Those who
make this charge are convinced that all technologies are merely neutral
tools and that the only valid question that an intelligent, honorable
person could debate is that of wise and unwise use. But if matters of
structure and mode of operation are to be excluded from scrutiny by
all but the appropriate experts, then the most crucial aspects of the
formative influence of technology in the world are totally removed
from any conscious, public attention or dispute. It is in this formative
character that technology gives up its claim to neutrality and becomes
a distinctly political matter. While it is widely admitted that the struc-
tures and processes of technology now constitute an important part of
the human world, the request that this be opened up for political dis-
cussion is still somehow seen as an attempt to foul the nest.

Here also we see a basic difference that divides the perspective of
technological change discussed earlier from the perspective we are now
developing. The difference comes in noticing when it makes sense to
ask a question. Thinkers who focus upon the notion of technological
change find opportunities for making judgments and taking action at
only those points in which a new development in technology occurs.
Attention is given to the use and possible misuse of a new invention and
to the side effects that a technical innovation might generate. Thus,
social scientists are intensely concerned with the economic, social, and
political impact of such new technologies as SSTs, VSTOLs, cable tele-
vision, automated education, satellite communications, and digital com-
puters. These are jazzy topics. They are worth studying and studies
on them can usually find funding. But for scholars supposedly worried
about the representativeness of their samples, these selections present
a remarkably skewed array. They are all technologies at the frontiers
of progress, the next novelties around the corner. Never raised for seri-
ous consideration are techniques and devices whose development and

Autonomous Technology 226

impact came decades ago and are now part of the structure of the
human world order. These are understood to be ‘‘given” and unques-
tionable, not subject to social scientific probing or political dispute.

The theory of technological politics, on the other hand, insists that
the entire structure of the technological order be the subject of critical
inquiry. It is only minimally interested in the questions of “‘use’”’ and
“misuse,” finding in such notions an attempt to obfuscate technology’s
systematic (rather than incidental) effects on the world at large. Simi-
larly, it gives little weight to problems of unintended, undesirable
remote side effects, hearing in such complaints little more than a justi-
fication for one more layer of technique unenlightened by the slightest
awareness of what the world of technique in its totality is about. No;
the theory of technological politics is not concerned with alternative
uses or side effects. Its direct, sustained, and sometimes annoying fasci-
nation is with characteristics that are built into the technological order,
aspects of the way in which that order has been constructed. The argu-
ment is not that technology is misused, but that in a fundamental sense
it is badly made. The kinds of apparatus, technique, and organization
that have been built during the last two centuries are seen to be utterly
destructive of much that is good in nature, man, and society, lethal to
many positive possiblities.

Our discussion of technological transformation in complex struc-
tures tries to clarify the grounds for this variety of criticism. To accept
its logic is, indeed, to find oneself opposed to many of the develop-
ments commonly trumpeted as “technological progress.” But such
objections are in no sense blind ones. They amount to a reasoned way
of standing ‘‘progress” on its head in order to appreciate what is at
stake. In a discussion that until recently thrived on unexamined homi-

29 66s

improvement,” and “‘use,’

’

lies of “growth,” “efficiency, it makes
sense to reintroduce critical content to the question, What is involved in

having a technology?

Reverse Adaptation
The theme of technological transformation skirts an issue which is

Artifice and Order 227

among the most interesting our perspective discloses. The problem
raised in this manner of looking at things is not merely that modern
technics gives a new order and discipline to the world. Neither is it
enough to indicate that whole categories of structures in nature and
human life are qualitatively altered in the process. Beyond this lie cases
in which technical systems, once built and operating, do not respond
positively to human guidance. The goals, purposes, needs, and decisions
that are supposed to determine what technologies do are in important
instances no longer the true source of their direction. Technical systems
become severed from the ends originally set for them and, in effect,
reprogram themselves and their environments to suit the special condi-
tions of their own operation. The artificial slave gradually subverts the
rule of its master.

To avoid confusion, we should notice what is not asserted in at-
tempts to describe this phenomenon. No one has written that technical
means are totally divorced from human wants and needs, cultural stan-
dards, political decisions, individual choices, and the like. No one has
argued that technology and human motives have parted company in an
absolute way. Ellul, whose positions mark a certain extreme in this
regard, still insists that the technological society is based upon the
ideals and motives of bourgeois culture (rationality, profit, material
comfort, convenience), which now stand as latent, ossified, seldom
examined underpinnings of every social practice.!10 He explicitly
argues that technique can advance only by satisfying social needs but
maintains that the relationship of technique and need amounts to a
selective process that eventually imposes a one-sided, tyrannical
pattern on the development of human capacities. He takes care to
emphasize the fact that human beings are present—desiring, thinking,
deciding, acting—at each step in the technological progression. The
weight of his message is, however, that such desire, thought, decision,
and action are very thoroughly corrupted by circumstances which arise
from modern man’s adaptation to technique. It is important to mention
such things, for the crisis of steering in the technological order does not
mean, as some seem to think, that there is no one at the wheel and that

Autonomous Technology 228

the car literally drives itself. It does mean that the relationship between
car and driver, continuing the metaphor, is problematic and sometimes
not that which ordinary tool-use conceptions lead us to expect.

Under the tool-use idea we tend to believe that there is an entirely
obvious connection between the thing desired and the means to its
fulfillment. One begins with a preconceived end in mind. Then one de-
cides upon an appropriate instrument or organization of instruments to
achieve that end, usually weighing the advantages of two or more al-
ternative methods. Next comes the actual use of the instrument in the
way established for its successful exercise. Finally, one achieves certain
results which are judged according to the original end.

Now, if one thinks about the matter for very long, one notices that
in actual practice the straight-line notion of means and ends is often not
realized. It is in fact the exception rather than the rule. This idea de-
scribes one possible way—the way certified by our cultural ideal—in
which ends can be related to technical means. But it is certainly not the
only way. If one insisted upon finding the linear relationship in every
instance in which persons engage in technical activity, one would be
woefully disappointed. Under the conditions characteristic.of an ad-
vanced technological order—complex interconnection, technical Fation:
ality and the vast scale, concentration and interdependence of major
enterprises—the old-fashioned, tool-use mode is replaced by many other
sorts of relationships between persons, their ends, and the means
available. oy

In the complex, large-scale systems that characterize our time, it is
seldom the case that any single individual or group has access to a tech-
nological process along the whole of its conception, operation, and
result. More common is a situation in which persons have the oppor-

tunity to enter into the process at one point only. The most common
of roles in this regard is that of the consumer who enjoys the end
products of the technology. But if we take use to refer to the whole
line or sequence of thought, action, and fulfillment, then the con-
sumer’s role could not be called use, since his appearance comes only at
the last stage. Perhaps a better term to describe this situation would be

Artifice and Order 229

utilization—the acceptance and enjoyment of the products of a techno-
logical process. Utilization, as opposed to use in this sense, is a largely
passive mode of behavior. It does not ask for participation in the estab-
lishment of the goals of the technical system, does not enter into the
design of the system or in the choice among alternatives, and is not
part of the actual working of the instrument.!!! This applies, by and
large, to the relationship most persons have to the technical systems
that provide them with the necessities and amenities of life.
Another point at which individuals become engaged along the
means-ends spectrum is at the stage of instrumentality—the stage at
which the interconnected components of a technical system, including
the human parts, must operate. It is here that we encounter important
instances of a phenomenon I wish to call reverse adaptation—the adjust-
ment of human ends to match the character of the available means. We
have already seen arguments to the effect that persons adapt themselves
to the order, discipline, and pace of the organizations in which they
work. But even more significant is the state of affairs in which people
come to accept the norms and standards of technical processes as
central to their lives as a whole. A subtle but comprehensive alteration
takes place in the form and substance of their thinking and motivation.
Efficiency, speed, precise measurement, rationality, productivity, and
technical improvement become ends in themselves applied obsessively
to areas of life in which they would previously have been rejected as
inappropriate. Efficiency—the quest for maximum output per unit
input—is, no one would question, of paramount importance in technical
systems. But now efficiency takes on a more general value and becomes
a universal maxim for all intelligent conduct. Is the most product being
obtained for the resources and effort expended? The question is no
longer applied solely to such things as assembly-line production. It
becomes equally applicable to matters of pleasure, leisure, learning,
every instance of human communication, and every kind of activity,
whatever its ostensive purpose. Similarly, speed—the rate of perform-
ance and swiftness of motion—makes sense as an instrumental value in
certain kinds of technological operation. But now speed is taken to

Autonomous Technology 230

be an admirable characteristic in and of itself. The faster is the superior,
whatever it may be.

In the vogue for “reading dynamics,” for example, we see one in-
stance in which the combined emphasis upon speed and efficiency—
increased words per minute plus increased comprehension—reduces an
activity with many possible values to a pure instrumentality. Slow
reading, for example, can often be a marvelous occasion for thoughtful
reflection. Nietzsche believed this and advised that readers take a walk
to. ponder the things that they found insightful in books. But Nietzsche
was not Evelyn Wood. He did not know that the primary end of reading
is not insight or illumination but merely the maximum information
crammed in per minute expended.

The reader may now want to pause a minute to consider other in-
stances in which things have become senselessly or inappropriately
efficient, speedy, rationalized, measured, or technically refined. To
ponder so will help make clear what is meant by the primacy of instru-
mental values. It will, however, cut your reading speed on this section
considerably.

The predominance of instrumental norms can be seen as a spillover
or exaggeration of the development of technical means. It is not that
such norms are perverse in themselves but rather that they have escaped
their accustomed sphere. Instrumental virtuosity—shown in efficiency,
speed, accuracy, and productivity—is required of individuals in the task
performance of their work. But the range of things covered by stan-
dards appropriate to instrumental task performance tends to increase.
Less and less of the business of living is left to chance. Therefore, as
individuals become acclimated to the rule of instrumentality in a cen-
tral portion of their activity, they extend this rule to everything else
as well. Internal consciousness begins to mirror the conditions of the
external order. There is no need to say that this is a necessary eventu-
ality. Heroic efforts might well be made to maintain the split between
the standards and concerns of our technological environment and those
appropriate to the rest of life. Suffice it to say that it is not surprising

Artifice and Order 231

that such changes do occur and that one is hard pressed to think of
how, in the long run, it could be otherwise.

The literature on this subject finds the dominance of instrumental
norms and motives enforced by basically two kinds of mechanisms.
The first is a psychological formation in which the technically adapted
side of one’s personality begins to exercise control over the rest of the
personality. The second is a condition in social situations such that all
problems are ultimately defined in terms of instrumentality and only
instrumental concerns have any influence. In both of these categories,
the totalism of technological rule becomes more than evident.

Illustrations of the way in which the first mechanism operates are
found in the work of Kenneth Keniston, one of the more eloquent and
intelligent of the contemporary writers who have taken up the techno-
logical perspective as a focus for empirical research. A rarity among
social scientists, Keniston finds it possible to investigate technological
and social change while at the same time paying attention to political
and psychological domination. In the normal practice, one must choose
one or the other of these problem sets, a choice that determines where
one publishes, which conferences one attends, and who finds one’s
work “interesting.” In his studies of alienated youth, Keniston found
that only a portion of the psychological problems he observed could be
attributed to the identity crises and “generation gap” associated with
technological change. Another part of the syndrome of alienation
comes from the influence of “the technological ego.” “Probably no
other society in human history,” he writes, “has demanded such high
levels of specialized ego functioning as does ours. Our ability to tolerate
those who lack minimal ego competence has decreased; our effort to
teach and promote technological skills in family and school has become
more and more systematic; the demand for peak ego performance has
grown.” /12 Keniston holds that by exceeding any reasonable limit, this
social-psychological formation has had very destructive effects. In ex-
plaining this state of affairs, Keniston employs what is by now a
familiar political metaphor. ‘The virtues of our technological society

Autonomous Technology 232

require a dictatorship of the ego rather than good government. The
self-denying potential of the ego is minimized: playfulness, fantasy,
relaxation, creativity, feeling, and synthesis take second place to
problem-solving, cognitive control, work, measurement, rationality, and
analysis. The technological ego rarely relaxes its control over the rest
of the psyche, rarely subordinates itself to other psychic interests or
functions. Though its tyranny is seldom obvious, it is firm and unrelent-
ing. Although apparently benevolent and reasoning, seeking to ‘under-
stand’ the motivations it regulates, ignoring the pangs of conscience
when it can (and when it cannot, seeking to undermine their claims),
the technological ego still dominates rather than governs well.” 113

Similar psychological notions appear in Ellul and Marcuse and are
crucial to that part of their arguments concerning how human com-
pliance with the structures of a technological order is maintained.
Marcuse’s theories of surplus repression and one-dimensionality, for
example, come together to form a hypothesis very similar to that which
Keniston advances. The important point, and certainly a point that
adds to the atmosphere of gloom surrounding such theories, is that the
ultimate enforcement of the vast sociotechnical structure’s require-
ments comes from internal (yet entirely artificial) sources. The policing
mechanism is none other than the combined force of the individual's
own drives, standards, and conceptions of what is desirable. With his
gift for a dramatic phrase, Ellul comments: “The new man being
created before our very eyes, correctly tailored to enter into the arti-
ficial paradise, the detailed and necessary product of the means which
he ordains for himself—that man is I.”114 Insight guarantees no special
extrication.

There is another important way in which the dominance of instru-
mental values is insured. It reinforces the mechanism just discussed but
rests on an entirely different foundation, for beyond the fact that
people experience a psychological obsession with instrumentality, the
technological society tends to arrange all situations of choice, judg-
ment, or decision in such a way that only instrumental concerns have
any true impact. In these situations questions of ‘how’ tend to over-

Artifice and Order 233

power and retailor questions of ‘‘why” so that the two matters become,
for all practical purposes, indistinguishable.

We have already noted that in Ellul’s theory important social ends,
ideals, and commitments stand at the historical base of technological
culture. But all of these have receded into the background and are no
longer, he asserts, part of the living process of choice. The ends have
become “abstract” and “implicit.” They ‘are no longer ques-
tioned.”115 “It is true that we still talk about ‘happiness’ or ‘liberty’ or
‘justice,’ but people no longer have any idea of the content of the
phrases, nor of the conditions they require, and these empty phrases are
only used in order to take measures which have no relation to these
illusions. These ends, which have become implicit in the mind of man,
and in his thought, no longer have any formative power: they are no
longer creative.” 116

What causes are responsible for this state of affairs? Ellul argues that
the withdrawal of the ends of action into an inert, moribund condition
comes at exactly the time when the means of action have become su-
premely effective. The tendency of all people is to hold the ends con-
stant or to assume that they are well “known” and then to seek the
best available techniques to achieve them. There is, then, a twofold
movement affecting all social practices and institutions: (1) the process
of articulating and criticizing the matter of ends slips into oblivion, and
(2) the business of discovering effective means and the ways of judging
these means in their performance assumes a paramount importance.
Thus, new kinds of apparatus, organization, and technique become the
real focus for many important social choices. Instrumental standards
appropriate to the evaluation of technological operations—norms of
efficiency above all others—determine the form and content of such
choices. Locked into an attachment to instruments and instrumentali-
ties, social institutions gradually lose the ability to consider their funda-
mental commitments.

But while ends have become passive in the face of technical means,
the reverse is not true. Indeed, the nature of the means requires that the
ends be precisely redefined in a way that suits the available technique.

Autonomous Technology 234

Abstract general ends—health, safety, comfort, nutrition, shelter, mo-
bility, happiness, and so forth—become highly instrument-specific. The
desire to move about becomes the desire to possess an automobile;
the need to communicate becomes the necessity of having telephone
service; the need to eat becomes a need for a refrigerator, stove, and
convenient supermarket. Implied here also is the requirement that the
whole chain of techniques and instruments which satisfies each need is
well constructed and maintained. Technique, apparatus, and organiza-
tion are themselves interdependent parts of the technological structure.
The desire for the products of the network amounts to a desire for the
continued support of each link in the hookup. Thus, a desire to com-
municate—an abstract, implicit, seldom-examined end—becomes the
active need to support and extend, for example, a nationwide telephone
system. The desire for geographical mobility becomes the practical need
to build and keep in adequate functioning order a variety of transporta-
tion systems—railroads, airlines, bus lines, freeways—in all of their com-
plex connections. Once individual and social ends have become so iden-
tified, there is no avoiding this kind of affirmation. I vote “for’’ Con-
solidate Edison’s full range of technical interconnections every time I
switch on my electric typewriter.

Going a step further, there is another distinctive way in which the
presence of technique refashions ends. In addition to the techniques
immediately and clearly effective in application to practical tasks, there
are parallel techniques that measure how well the means are being em-
ployed. Techniques of measurement are themselves highly specific.
Inherent in their construction is the ability to recognize certain factors
while blocking out all others. One asks the question, How well are the
technical means doing? The way of answering the query is itself recon-
structed to fit the techniques of measurement chosen. Testing, sam-
pling, surveying, statistical evaluation bring together new combinations
of physical instruments, methods, and productive organization. Far
from being neutral, uninvolved sensing devices, these technical en-
sembles have their own requirements that must be met if the measure-

Artifice and Order 235

ment is to take place. Individuals and social institutions must adapt t@
these requirements or they cannot be adequately evaluated.

The influence of standardized, centralized, computer-scored mua
testing in education is a good example of how this works. The tests can
measure only those qualities of a student’s education that can be rep-
resented in pencil-marked squares on the test sheet during a four-hour
examination. On top of this, students and teachers soon learn the game
and its stakes. It is not unusual for high-school seniors in the United
States to spend the better part of their time mastering the specific kinds
of performance likely to appear on College Entrance Examination
Board tests. This has progressed so far that there is now genuine con-
cern that elementary writing skills are rapidly deteriorating simply
because multiple-choice, computer-scored exams do not measure them.

“What the teachers are saying to us,” one official of the testing organi-
zation remarked recently, ‘‘is that if the College Board does not require
writing as part of its basic testing program, then writing won’t be valued
in the schools, and teachers won’t require it of their students.” 117
Thus, as a result of the structure of the instrument and human
adaptation to it, techniques of measurement become purely self-
fulfilling.

In one of the most unsettling arguments in his book Ellul maintains
that the combined result of developments of this kind is to produce a
virtual automatism in matters that are ostensibly free choice. The
original ends have atrophied; society has accepted the power of tech-
nique in all areas of life; social decisions are now based upon the va-
lidity of instrumental modes of evaluation; the ends are restructured to
suit the requirements of techniques of performance and of measure-
ment. Thus, selections as to what is to be done and how proceed almost
as if by clockwork. Once such conditions take effect, only an extraor-
dinary act of will can reopen the process of evaluation, choice, and
action, for all situations in social life turn out to be those in which a
known instrument is available to do the job and a corresponding instru-

ment ready to make the right selection. Ellul writes:

Autonomous Technology 236

Technique itself, ipso facto and without indulgence or possible discus-
sions, selects among the means to be employed. The human being is
no longer in any sense the agent of choice. Let no one say that man is
the agent of technical progress... and that it is he who chooses among
possible techniques. In reality, he neither is nor does anything of the
sort. He is a device for recording effects and results obtained by various
techniques. He does not make a choice of complex and, in some way,
human motives. He can decide only in favor of the technique that gives
the maximum efficiency. But this is not choice. A machine could effect
the same operation. Man still appears to be choosing when he abandons
a given method that has proved excellent from some point of view. But
his action comes solely from the fact that he has thoroughly analyzed
the results and determined that from another point of view the method

in question is less efficient.!!

Thus, by its systematic confounding of processes of thought, motiva-
tion, and choice, modern technology tends to remove its workings
from effective direction by human agency. The results of this tendency
so closely approximate a self-generating, self-sustaining technical evolu-
tion that efforts to argue for the reality of human guidance seem com-
pletely vain. Of course, in principle man is always at the control panel.
But this is increasingly a principle hollow of any living substance.

In summary, the position I have described identifies certain pro-
cesses of selectivity at work in the formation of modern culture, pro-
cesses generated by the structures and operations of technics itself. My
aim has been to give a general account of such phenomena and explain
their underlying rationale. This understanding of things does not neces-
sarily exclude all other varieties of cultural selection. There are impor-
tant factors which act upon technics as well. Jacob Schmookler has
shown exactly what one would expect—that the market mechanism has
had a substantial influence upon the kinds of inventions and innova-
tions developed over many decades.!119 Nowhere does the present
theory deny the presence of such economic forces. It merely suggests
that such factors may not be the overwhelmingly decisive ones. There is
a sphere of vital concern that one misses if every question is quickly

reduced to categories of economics.

Chapter 6
Technological Politics

The last two chapters have examined two drastically different ways in
which technology can be seen as a political phenomenon. First was the
orthodox notion of technocracy, which finds the importance of the
matter in the ascendance of a new group of knowledgeable persons
destined to gain power in an age of advanced technics. From this van-
tage point the whole subject appears as little more than a special prob-
lem for elite or ruling-class theory. One traces down the identity, social
base, and circumstances of influence of the technically proficient group
and comes, thereby, to the locus of technology’s political substance.

A second approach takes a much broader and more extraordinary
route. Here one locates the political essence of technology in its total
formative impact on all of nature and human culture. Technological
politics, in this manner of seeing, encompasses the whole of tech-
nology’s capacity to transform, order, and adapt animate and inanimate
objects to accord with the purely technical structures and processes. It
is the system of order and governance appropriate to a universe made
artificial. To the extent that the human world becomes a product of
rational artifice, it will fall under this mode of governance. Political
reality becomes a set of institutions and practices shaped by the domi-
nation of technical requirements. The order which evolves is marked by
stringent norms of performance, rigid structural limitations, and a ten-
dency to alter subtly the human master’s relationship to the techno-
logical slave.

This second notion has an unfamiliar ring since it stretches the mean-
ing of the word politics beyond its ordinary context. Indeed, the
thoughts advanced in the previous section are perhaps best called a
theory of culture, a theory of the patterns human institutional life,
structures of consciousness and conduct, take in advanced technological
societies. It is, nonetheless, a theory of culture with teeth. My selection
of the term technological politics is meant to emphasize a point made
again and again in the sources mentioned—that the rule of technological
circumstances in the modern era does in fact supplant other ways of
building, maintaining, choosing, acting, and enforcing, which are more
commonly considered political. In this chapter I shall further clarify

Autonomous Technology 238

the political edge of the theory. In so doing we will be able to return
to and reassess the issue of technocracy. The “who governs” and ‘‘what
governs”’ will be at least partially reconciled.

Reverse Adaptation and Control

We have already considered one of the ways in which a series of trans-
formations engendered by the introduction of technological means
eventually leads to transformation of ends. I called this process reverse
adaptation, for the interesting situation is one in which the exact oppo-
site of the idealized relationship of means and ends is the one that
occurs. Ends are adapted to suit the means available.

In a somewhat different form, the process of reverse adaptation is
the key to the critical interpretation of how ends are developed for
large-scale systems and for the activities of the technological society as
a whole. Here the conception of autonomous technology as the rule of
a self-generating, self-perpetuating, self-programming mechanism
achieves its sharpest definition. The basic hypothesis is this: that
beyond a certain level of technological development, the rule of freely
articulated, strongly asserted purposes is a luxury that can no longer
be permitted. I want now to state the logic of this position in the lan-
guage introduced in the previous chapter.

Of interest to the theory are technological systems or networks of a
highly advanced development—systems characterized by large size,
concentration, extension, and the complex interconnection of a great
number of artificial and human parts. Such conditions of size and inter-

connectivity mark a new “stage” in the history of technical means.

Components that were developed and operated separately are now
linked together to form organized wholes. The resulting networks mepTE.
sent a quantum jump over the power and performance capabilities of
smaller, more segmental systems. In this regard, the genius of the
twentieth century consists in the final connecting of technological ele-
ments taken from centuries of discovery and invention.

Characteristic also of this new stage of development is the inter-
dependence of the major functioning components. Services supplied by

Technological Politics 239

one part are crucial to the successful working of other parts and ta the
system as a whole. This situation has both an internal and external di:
mension. Within the boundaries of any specific system, the mutual
dependencies are tightly arranged and controlled. But internally well:
integrated systems are also in many cases dependent upon each other,
Through relationships of varying degrees of certainty and solidity, the
systems establish meta-networks, which supply “inputs” or receive “out:
puts” according to the purposes at hand. One need only consider the
relationships among the major functional components—systems of
manufacturing, energy, communications, food supply, transportation—
to see the pulse beat of the technological society.

Large-scale systems can succeed in their ambitious range of activities
only through an extension of control. Interdependence is a productive
relationship only when accompanied by the ability to guarantee its
outcome. But if a system must depend on elements it does not control,
it faces a continuing uncertainty and the prospect of disruption. For
this reason, highly organized technologies of the modern age have a
tendency to enlarge their boundaries so that variables which were pre-
viously external become working parts of the system’s internal
structure.

The name usually given to the process of thought and action that
leads to the extension of control is planning, which means much more
than the sort of planning done by individuals in everyday life. Planning
in this context is a formalized technique designed to make new connec-
tions with a high degree of certainty and manipulability. Clear inten-
tion, foresight, and calculation combine with the best available means
of action. In some typical passages from Ellul we read:

The more complex manufacturing operations become, the more neces-
sary it is to take adequate precautions and to use foresight. It is not
possible to launch modern industrial processes lightly. They involve
too much capital, labor, and social and political modifications. Detailed
forecasting is necessary. !

Planning permits us to do more quickly and more completely whatever
appears desirable. Planning in modern society is the technical method.2

Autonomous Technology 240

In the complexity of economic phenomena arising from techniques,
how could one justify refusal to employ a trenchant weapon that sim-
plifies and resolves all contradictions, orders incoherences, and ra-
tionalizes the excesses of production and consumption?3

Size, complexity, and costliness in technological systems combine to
make planning—intelligent anticipation plus control—a virtual necessity.
This is more than just convenience. Planning is crucial to the coherence
of the technological order at a particular stage in its development.

One can ask, What would be the consequences of an inability to plan
or to control the span of interdependencies? A reasonable answer
would be that many specific kinds of enterprise known to us would
fail. The system could not complete its tasks or achieve its purposes.
Another consequence, more drastic, might be that the disturbance and
disorientation would eventually ruin the internal structure of the
system. The whole organized web of connections would collapse.

More important than either of these are the implications for the
technological ensemble of the civilization as a whole. Ultimately, if
large-scale, complex, interconnected, interdependent systems could not
successfully plan, technological apraxia would become endemic.
Society would certainly move to a different sort of technological de-
velopment. This is clear enough to those who read Ellul, Mumford, Mar-
cuse, Goodman, or Illich and experience horror at the critique of social
existence founded on large-scale systems. What if the critics were taken
seriously? What if the necessary operating conditions of such systems
were tampered with? Surely society would move “backward.””4

This idea of moving “backward” is a fascinating one. At work here is
a quaint, two-dimensional, roadlike image that almost everyone (includ-
ing this writer) falls into as easily as sneezing. One moves, it seems,
forward (positive) or backward (negative). Never does one move
upward and to the right or off into the distance at, say, a thirty-four
degree angle. No; it is forward or backward in a straight line. What is
understood, furthermore, is that forward means larger, more complex,
based on the latest scientific knowledge and the centralized control of

an increasingly greater range of variables. Hence it is clear that not to

Technological Politics 241

plan, not to control the circumstances of large-scale systems, is to risk
a kind of ghastly cultural regression. This lends extra urgency to these
measures and extra vehemence toward any criticism of the world that
they produce. Surely, it is believed (and this is no exaggeration), the
critics would have us back in the stone age.>

Now, everything I have said so far presupposes that large-scale
technological systems are at the outset based on independent ends or
purposes. It makes sense to say that technologies “‘serve” this or that
end or need or to say that they are “used” to achieve:a preconceived
purpose or set of purposes. Nothing argued here seeks to deny this. In
the original design, all technologies are purposive.

But within the portrait of advanced technics just sketched, this
situation is cast in a considerably different light. Under the logic that
takes one from size, interconnection, and interdependence to control
and planning, it can happen that such things as ends, needs, and pur-
poses come to be dysfunctional to a system. In some cases, the origi-
nally established end of a system may turn out to be a restraint upon
the system’s ability to grow or to operate properly. Strongly enforced,
the original purpose may serve as a troublesome obstacle to the elabora-
tion of the network toward a higher level of development. In other in-
stances, the whole process that leads to the establishment of ends for
the system may become an unacceptable source of uncertainty, inter-
ference, and instability. Formerly a guide to action, the end-setting
process is now a threat. If the system must depend on a source that is
truly independent in its ability to enforce new ends, then it faces the
perils of dependency.

In instances of this kind, a system may well find it necessary to junk
the whole end-means logic and take a different course. It may decide to
take direct action to extend its control over the ends themselves. After
all, when strongly asserted needs, purposes, or goals begin to pose a risk
to the system’s effective operation, why not choose transcendence?
Why not treat the ends as an “‘input” like any other, include them in
the plan, and tailor them to the system’s own needs? Obviously this is

the ‘fone best way.”

Autonomous Technology 242

At this point the idea of rationality in technological thinking once
again begins to wobble, for if one takes rationality to mean the accom-
modation of means to ends, then surely reverse-adapted systems repre-
sent the most flagrant violation of rationality. If, on the other hand,
one understands rationality to be the effective, logical ordering of tech-
nological parts, then systems which seek to control their own ends are
the very epitome of the rational process. It is this contrast that enables
Herbert Marcuse to conclude that the technological society’s ‘sweeping
rationality, which propels efficiency and growth, is itself irrational.”
How one feels about this depends on which model of rationality one
wishes to follow. The elephant can do his dance if you ask him to, but
he sometimes crushes a beautiful maiden during the performance.

Let us briefly examine some of the patterns reverse adaptation can

take. Remember that as I use the term system here I am referring to
large sociotechnical aggregates with human beings fully present, acting,
and thinking. The behavior suggested, however, is meant as an attribute
of the aggregate. Later I shall ask whether a change in the identities or
ideologies of those “in control” is likely to make any difference.
1. The system controls markets relevant to its operations. One institu-
tion through which technologies are sometimes thought to be. regulated
is the market. If all went according to the ideal of classical economics,
the market ought to provide the individual and social collectivity a
powerful influence over the products and services that technological
systems offer. Independent agents acting through the market should
have a great deal to say about what is produced, how much, and at
what price.

In point of fact, however, there are many ways in which large-scale
systems circumvent the market, ways that have become the rule rather
than the exception in much of industrial production. In Galbraith’s
version of what has become a mundane story: “If, with advancing
technological and associated specialization, the market becomes increas-
ingly unreliable, industrial planning will become increasingly impossible
unless the market also gives way to planning. Much of what the firm

Technological Politics 243

regards as planning consists in minimizing or getting rid of market influ-
ences.””?

Galbraith mentions three common procedures through which this
is accomplished. The first is vertical integration, in which the market is
superseded. “The planning unit takes over the source of supply or the
outlet; a transaction that is subject to bargaining over prices and
amounts is thus replaced with a transfer within the planning unit.”8

A second means is market control, which “consists in reducing or
eliminating the independence of action of those to whom the planning
unit sells or from whom it buys.”9 Such control, Galbraith asserts, is a
function of size. Large systems are able to determine the price they ask
or pay in transactions with smaller organizations. To some extent, they
are also able to control the amount sold.!9

A third means suspends the market through contract. Here the sys-
tems agree in advance on amounts and prices to prevail in exchanges
over a long period of time. The most stable and desirable of these, as
we noted earlier, involve contracts with the state.

Galbraith illustrates each of these with examples from General

Motors, U.S. Steel, General Electric, and others, examples I shall not
repeat. The matter is now part of modern folklore. That the market is
an effective means for controlling large-scale systems is known to be a
nostalgic, offbeat, or fantastic utopian proposal with little to do with
reality.
2. The system controls or strongly influences the political processes
that ostensibly regulate its output and operating conditions. Other pos-
sible sources of independent control are the institutions of politics
proper. According to the model, clear-minded voters, legislators, execu-
tives, judges, and administrators make choices, which they impose upon
the activities of technological systems. By establishing wise goals, rules,
and limits for all such systems, the public benefit is ensured.

But the technological system, the servant of politics, may itself de-
cide to find political cures for its own problems. Why be a passive tool?
Why remain strictly dependent on political institutions? Such systems

Autonomous Technology 244

may act directly to influence legislation, elections, and the content of
law. They may employ their enormous size and power to tailor politi-
cal environments to suit their own efficient workings.

One need only review the historical success of the railroads, oil
companies, food and drug producers, and public utilities in controlling
the political agencies that supposedly determine what they do and how.
A major accomplishment of political science is to document exactly
how this occurs. The inevitable findings are now repeated as Ralph
Nader retraces the footsteps of Grant McConnell. It is apparently still
a shock to discover that ‘‘regulatory” commissions are dominated by
the entities they regulate. !!

The consequences of this condition are well known. In matters of
safety, price, and quality of goods and services, the rules laid down
reflect the needs of the system rather than some vital, independent, and
forceful expression of public interest. It is not so much that the politi-
cal process is always subverted in this way; the point is that occurrences
of this sort happen often enough to be considered normal. No one is
surprised to find Standard Oil spending millions to fight antipollution
legislation. There is little more than weariness in our discovery that the
Food and Drug Administration regularly allows corporations of the
food industry to introduce untested and possibly unsafe additives into
mass-processed foods.!2 I am not speaking here of the influence of
private organizations only. Indeed, the best examples in this genre come
from public agencies able to write their own tickets, for example, the
Army Corps of Engineers.

3. The system seeks a ‘“‘mission” to match its technological capabilities.
It sometimes happens that the original purpose of a megatechnical
organization is accomplished or in some other way exhausted. The
original, finite goals may have been reached or its products become out-
moded by the passage of time. In the reasonable, traditional model of
technological employment one might expect that in such cases the
“tool”? would be retired or altered to suit some new function deter-

mined by society at large.
But this is an unacceptable predicament. The system with its massive

Technological Politics 245

commitments of manpower and physical resources may not wish to
steal gracefully into oblivion. Unlike the fabled Alexander, therefore,
it does not weep for new worlds to conquer. It sets about creating
them. Fearing imminent extinction, the system returns to the politi-
cal arena in an attempt to set new goals for itself, new reasons for social
support. Here a different kind of technological invention occurs. The
system suggests a new project, a new mission, or a new variety of appa-
ratus, which, according to its own way of seeing, is absolutely vital to
the body politic. It places all of its influence into an effort to convince
persons in the political sphere of this new need. A hypothesis suggests
itself: if the system is deemed important to society as a whole, and if
the new purpose is crucial to the survival of the system, then that
purpose will be supported regardless of its objective value to the
society.

Examples of this phenomenon are familiar in contemporary politi-
cal experience and are frequently the subject of heated debate. The
National Aeronautics and Space Administration faces the problem of
finding new justifications for its existence as a network of “big tech-
nology.’’ NASA has successfully flown men to the moon. Now what?
Many interesting new projects have been proposed by the agency: the
space shuttle, the VSTOL aircraft system, explorations to Mars, Venus,
and Jupiter, asteroid space colonies. But whatever the end put forward,
the fundamental argument is always the same: the aerospace “team”
should not be dismantled, the great organization of men, technique,
and equipment should not be permitted to fall to pieces. Give the sys-
tem something to do. Anything. In the early 1960s resources were
sought to fly the astronauts to unknown reaches of space; now funds
are solicited to fly businessmen from Daly City to Lake Tahoe or the
president to a space station for lunch.

Similar instances can be found in the recent histories of the ABM
project, the SST, Boeing, General Dynamics, and Lockheed.!3 The
nation may not need a particular new fighter plane, transport, bomber,
or missile system. But the aerospace firms certainly need the contracts.
And Los Angeles, Seattle, Houston, and other cities certainly need the

Autonomous Technology 246

aircraft companies. Therefore the nation needs the aircraft. The con-
nections of the system to society as a whole give added punch to the
effort to have reverse-adapted technological ends embraced as the most
revered of national goals.

4. The system propagates or manipulates the needs it also serves. But
even if one grants a certain degree of interference in the market and po-
litical processes, is it not true that the basic human needs are still au-
tonomous? The institutionalized means to their satisfaction may have
been sidetracked or corrupted, but the original needs and desires still
exist as vital and independent phenomena. After all, persons in society
do need food, shelter, clothing, health, and access to the amenities of
modern life. Given the integrity of these needs, it is still possible to
establish legitimate ends for all technical means.

The theory of technological politics finds such views totally mislead-
ing, for reverse adaptation does not stop with deliberate interference in
political and economic institutions. It also includes control of the needs
in society at large. Megatechnical systems do not sit idly by while the
whims of public taste move toward some specifically desired product
or service. Instead they have numerous means available to bring about
that most fortunate of circumstances in which the social need and what
the system is best able to produce coincide in a perfect one-to-one
match. All the knowledge of the behavioral sciences and all of the tools
of refined psychological technique are put to work on this effort.
Through the right kinds of advertising, product design, and promotion,
through the creation of a highly energized, carefully manipulated uni-
verse of symbols, man as consumer is mobilized to want and seek ac-
tively the goods and services that the instruments of technology are
able to provide at that moment. “Roughly speaking,” Ellul observes,

“the problem here is to modify human needs in accordance with the

requirements of planning.” 14

If the system were truly dependent upon a society with autonomous
needs, if it were somehow forced to take a purely responsive attitude,
then the whole arrangement of modern technology would be considera-
bly different. In all likelihood there would be fewer such systems and

Technological Politics 247

with less highly developed structures. Autonomous needs are in this
sense an invitation to apraxia. Adequate steps must be taken to insure
that wants and needs of the right sort arrive at the correct time in pre-
determined quantity. In Ellul’s words: “If man does not have certain
needs, they must be created. The important concern is not the psychic
and mental structure of the human being but the uninterrupted flow of
any and all goods which invention allows the economy to produce.
Whence the measureless trituration of the human soul, the true issue of
which is propaganda. And propaganda, reduced to advertising, relates
happiness and a meaningful life to consumption.” 15

The point here raises an important issue, which neither the apolo-
gists nor the critics of the technological society have addressed very
well. Assumed in most of the writing is the continued growth of human
wants and needs in response to the appearance of new technological
achievements. With each new invention or innovation it becomes pos-
sible to awaken and satisfy an appetite latent in the human constitu-
tion. Potentially there is no limit to this. A want or need will arise to
meet any breakthrough. But precisely how this occurs is never fully
elucidated. Apparently the human being is by nature a creature of infi-
nite appetite.

But even thinkers who believe this to be true are sometimes sobered
by its implications. What if all the wrong needs are awakened? Marxists
grapple with this dilemma in their analyses of “false consciousness”
and “commodity fetishism” trying to explain how the proletariat
should have taken such a serious interest in the debased consumer
goods and status symbols of bourgeois society. Much of the neo-
Marxian criticism of the Frankfurt school—the writings of Adorno,
Horkheimer, Marcuse, Habermas, and others—focuses on the corruption
of Marx’s vision of human fulfillment in technological societies.!6 Per-
sons in such societies certainly do lead lives of great material abun-
dance, as predicted by Marx’s theory. But the quality of their desire
and of their relationships to material things is certainly not what the
philosopher had in mind.

Many of Ellul’s lamentations, similarly, come from his conclusion

Autonomous Technology 248

that man, or at least modern man, is indeed infinitely malleable and
appetitive and, therefore, an easy mark. There is nothing that a well-
managed sales campaign cannot convince him to crave with all his
heart. Manipulated by “propaganda,” the sum total of all psychological
and mass media techniques, man wildly pursues a burgeoning glut of
consumer products of highly questionable worth. 17

It is incorrect, however, to say that needs of this sort are false. Per-
sons who express the needs undoubtedly have them. To those persons,
they are as real as any other needs ever experienced. ‘‘False’’ is not a
response to someone who says he absolutely must have an automatic
garage door opener, extra-dry deodorant for more protection, or air-
flow torsion-bar suspension. No; the position of the theory is not that
such needs are false but rather that they are not autonomous. A need
becomes a need in substantial part because a megatechnical system
external to the person needed that need to be needed.

A possible objection here is that human needs are always some
variant of what is available at the time and generally desired by the
society. Personal needs do not exist independent of the social environ-
ment and specific state of technics in which they occur. That is un-
doubtedly correct. Nevertheless, it is clear that the degree of conscious,
rational, well-planned stimulation and manipulation of need is now
much greater than in any previous historical period. Systems in the
technological order are able to engender and give direction to highly
specific needs, which in the aggregate constitute much of the “demand”
for products and services. The combined impact of such manipulation
produces a climate of generalized, intense needfulness bordering on
mass hysteria, which keeps the populace permanently mobilized for its
necessary tasks of consumption.

True, other cultures at other times have been as effective in suppress-
ing need for religious or purely practical reasons. But this fact merely
gives additional focus to the peculiar turn that a culture based on high-
tech systems has taken.

5. The system discovers or creates a crisis to justify its own further
expansion. One way in which large systems measure their own vitality

Technological Politics 249

is on the scale of growth. If a system is growing, it is maintaining its
full structure, replacing worn-out parts, and expanding into new areas
of activity. Thinking on this subject has become highly specialized, but
the basic maxim is still simple: healthy things grow.

There are times, however, when a system may find that its growth
has slowed or even stopped. Even worse, it may discover that its ra-
tionale for growth has eroded. Public need for the goods or services
the system provides may have leveled off; social and political support
for expansion may have withered. In such cases the system has, from its
own point of view, failed in its very success.

But the system is not helpless in this predicament. It does control its
own internal structure, and it has command of a great deal of infor-
mation about its role in society. With a little care it can manipulate
either its own structure or the relevant information to create the
appearance of a public “crisis’’ surrounding its activities. This is not to
say that the system lies or deceives. It may, however, read and publicize
its own condition and the condition of its environment very selectively.
From the carefully selected portrait may come an image of a new and
urgent social need.

Two scenarios of this sort have become familiar in recent years: the
threat and the shortage. Under the psychology of the threat, the system
finds an external and usually very nebulous enemy whose existence de-
mands the utmost in technological preparation. Foreign military powers
and crime in the streets have been traditional favorites. Statistics are
cited to demonstrate that the enemy is well armed and busy. Society,
on the other hand, is asleep at the switch, woefully bereft of tools and
staff. The only logical conclusion is that the relevant system must,
therefore, be given the means necessary to meet the threat as soon as
possible.

The Department of Defense, to cite one noteworthy example,
keeps several such plot lines in various stages of preparation at all times.
If public or congressional interest in new projects or impressive hard-
ware fails, the latest ‘intelligence’ is readily available to show that a
“gap”? has appeared in precisely the area in question. This practice

Autonomous Technology 250

works best when defense systems on two continents are able to justify
their growth in terms of each other’s activities. Here one can see first-
hand one of nature’s rarities: the perfect circle.

If well orchestrated, the shortage can be equally impressive. Here the
system surveys the data on its own operations and environment and
announces that a crucial resource, product, or service is in dangerously
short supply. Adequate steps must be taken to forestall a crisis for the
whole society. The system must be encouraged to expand and to
extend its sphere of control.

It may well be that there is a demonstrable shortage. What is impor-
tant, however, is that the system may command a virtual monopoly of
information concerning the situation and can use this monopoly for
self-justification. Persons and groups outside usually do not have access
to or interest in the information necessary to scrutinize the “need” in
a critical way. This allows the system to define the terms of the
“shortage” in its own best way. Outsiders are able to say, “Yes, I see;
there is a shortage.” But they are usually not prepared to ask: What is
its nature? What are the full circumstances? What alternatives are
available? Thus the only response is, ‘(Do what is necessary.’”’ A number
of “shortages” of this kind have been well publicized of late. There are
now “crises” in natural gas, petroleum, and electricity, which a guile-
less public is discovering from predictable sources of information. In
this instance, as in others, the almost inevitable outcome may well be
“crisis= system growth supported by a huge public investment,” all with
a dubious relation to any clearly demonstrated need.

Some of the more interesting cases of reverse adaptation combine
the above strategies in various ways. Numbers 1 and 2 as well as 2 and
3 could be anticipated as successful pairings. A particularly ironic case
is that which brings together numbers 4 and 5, the propagation of need
and the discovery of shortage. This is presently a popular strategy with
power companies who spend millions advertising power-consuming
luxury appliances while at the same time trumpeting the dire perils of
the “energy crisis.” Such cases might be called double reverse adapta:

tions.

Technological Politics 251

I am not saying that the patterns noted are universal in the behavior
of megatechnical systems. It. may also happen that the traditionally
expected sequence of relating ends to means does occur, or some mix
may take place. The hypothesis of the theory of technological politics
is that as large-scale systems come to dominate various areas of modern
social life, reverse adaptation will become an increasingly important
way of determining what is done and how.

I am not arguing that there is anything inherently wrong with this.
My point is that such behavior violates the models of technical prac-
tice we normally employ. To the extent to which we employ tool-use
and ends-means conceptions, our experience will be out of sync with

our expectations.

The Technological Imperative and the State
We are now prepared to summarize the important differences between
traditional notions and the theory of technological Politics.

In the traditional interpretation society has at its disposal a set of
technological tools for the achievement of consciously selected social
ends. Megatechnical systems are seen to be responsive and flexible. At
the command of the society or its political institutions, the needed
goods and services are produced. Control is one-directional and certain,
leading from the source of social or political agency to the instrument.

In the technological perspective megatechnical systems are seen to
have definite operational imperatives of their own, which must be met.
Society stands at the disposal of the systems for the satisfaction of their
requirements. The systems themselves are anything but responsive and
flexible. Their conditions of size, complexity, and mutual interdepen-
dence give them a rigidity and inertia difficult to overcome. Rather
than respond to commands generated by political or social processes,
such systems produce demands society must fulfill or face unfortunate
consequences. Confronted with these imperatives—the system’s need to
control supply, distribution, and the full range of circumstances af fect-
ing its operations—the immediate and expressed needs of society may
seem Capricious. Frequently, therefore, requirements of successful

Autonomous Technology 252

technological performance mean that control must be exercised over
agencies that were formerly themselves in control.

Here, then, are two views with radically differing assertions and im-
plied predictions. One conceivable test might be to determine how
much of the U.S. Federal budget or yearly consumer dollar reflects one
or the other of the processes described by the models. But although it is
important to discover which of these visions best corresponds to reality,
it is not my present purpose to perform such tests. Rather, I want to
continue following the logic and implications of the viewpoint now un-
folding before us. This will be interesting, for at this juncture there is
a hitch.

All along it has been my aim to take as a basis premises and obser-
vations found in an existing body of literature and to probe, extend,
and refine the arguments as I found necessary. With the idea of reverse
adaptation well sketched, however, we now find ourselves at a point of
major disagreement with the sources from which the present theory is
drawn. The literature insists- indeed this is one of its major thrusts—
that the movement of advanced technology is universally centralizing
and that this centralizing tendency eventually culminates in control by
an extremely powerful, technologically oriented state. But on the basis
of what we have.already seen, this is not a tenable conclusion.

The idea of centralization is often taken as an abbreviation of the
tendencies we noticed in the previous section. It is a way of summariz-
ing the process that leads to systematic planning and control in mega-
technical organizations. It is, unfortunately, in most cases a very foggy
notion. The writing on the subject (of whatever tone) employs “‘cen-
tralization” as if its meaning were part of everyone’s innate knowledge.
Seldom is the term well explicated. As best I am able to tell, critics of

the technological society use it to suggest the following:
1. That a ‘single system or very small number of similar systems control
the production and/or distribution of goods and services in a given area.
This is understood to be a consequence of technical rationality, effi-
ciency, and the economies of scale. Under such influences one would
expect to find that there would be fewer and fewer self-contained

Technological Politics 253

operating units in areas of advanced technological performance over a
given period of time. Formerly independent systems tend to coalesce
to form large, more comprehensive networks. Typical examples can be
found in the history of steel and automobile manufacturing, mass
communications, railroads, modern agriculture and food distribution,
and others.'8 Both Mumford!9 and Ellul cite instances from the

generation and transmission of electricity. Ellul observes:

Electrical networks may remain for some time independent of one
another. But this situation cannot last when it is found that indepen-
dence gives rise to general costs of no inconsiderable magnitude, diffi-
culties in arranging the courses of the lines, and even practical difficul-
ties in electrical technique. The interconnection of electrical networks
is demanded by all technical men.20

2. That within an organized system, control originates in a central
source and emanates outward through the other parts. According
to the theory, the interdependence of parts in modern systems
necessitates precise coordination, control, and planning of a central-
ized sort. Again, this is a function of the stage of development at
which the particular technology stands. In less well-developed, less
thoroughly systematized technological activities there is room for a
high degree of independence and self-direction in similar functioning
parts. But with a few exceptions, the massive ensembles of men and
apparatus of the twentieth century do not permit such fragmentation.
Control is exercised through centralized, hierarchical channels, which
grant little real independence of decision or action at the periphery.2!

3. That all megatechnical systems eventually come to be controlled by
a single superior center: the state. Modern technology reaches its
highest stage with the total interconnection and integration of all
parts. Separate systems face problems in the control of elements
outside their boundaries, often problems in their relationships with
each other. The only relief from such difficulties is the mediation
of the state, the supreme civil power within society. The state can
guarantee the necessary conditions of operation for the separate

Autonomous Technology 254

systems by manipulating taxation, procurement, regulations, and
so forth. It can also forge and manage the links between the systems.
In so doing, according to the argument, the state assumes control
of all the activities in the technological order. Ellul describes the

progression as follows:

The technical “central” is the normal expression of every application.
A coexistence of these centrals is implied: a completely centralized
organization which ultimately encompasses all human activities... .
Each of the centralized bodies must be put into its proper position and
relation with respect to the others. This is a function of the plan, and
only the state is in a position to supervise the whole complex and to
co-ordinate these organisms in order to obtain a higher degree of cen-
tralization.22

A great deal of energy in contemporary social science has been
expended in attempts to disprove claims of this sort, especially the last
two. Organization theory and research have attacked the assumption
that centralized control is necessary in and among complex organiza-
tions. Students of informal structure have shown that even where a
centralized, hierarchical formal structure exists, a decentralized social
process may carry the true weight of the enterprise.23 Research on
organization communication has shown that decentralized segments of
organizations use the information they possess as a resource to further
their own specific purposes and thwart control by a central source. 24
Again and again, scholars have tried to demonstrate that Max Weber’s
model of centralized, hierarchical bureaucracy does not describe the
actual structure or behavior of many kinds of productive organiza-
tion.25 Particularly in work that involves highly sophisticated expertise
and the quest for results that cannot be determined precisely in
advance, hierarchy and centralization are counterproductive.26 Critics
of the “synoptic conception” of decision making have argued that cen-
tralized control is not and perhaps cannot be an effective way of
managing activities within and among large-scale organizations.2/

Evidence of this sort is sometimes taken as cause for great celebra-
tion. It suggests that the movement of efficient, effective organizational

Technological Politics 255

technique leads toward the decentralization of power and authority.
The drift of technological history takes a favorable turn and we are
given utopia, or at least a much better world, automatically. Some have
trumpeted this as the “end of bureaucracy.” Others have announced
that based on the need for the wide dispersion of high-quality informa-
tion in a complex, rapidly changing world, ‘democracy is inevita-
ble.”28 If the new organization theory had been present at the time of
the French Revolution, we would likely have seen a remarkable inven-
tion: the self-storming Bastille.

Obviously these findings must be taken with a grain of salt. The
centralized, hierarchical organization is, in the main, still understood
to be the norm by which the exceptions are measured. There may in-
deed be inherent limitations upon centralized decision making and con-
trol, but this does not change the fact that most of the influential
organizations in any given advanced technological society still operate
on that model and try, whenever possible, to see that the model suc-
ceeds. Within the majority of such large-scale organizations, public and
private, there is no apparent stampede to proclaim decentralization the
wave of the future. Whatever else it may be, “democracy” is not
inevitable.

For the project at hand, however, my disagreements with those who
predict total centralization are not based on these considerations.
Instead, they rest on a different interpretation of the direction in which
the theory of technological politics properly leads. The centralist con-

ception follows the advance of technical interconnection through suc-

cessively higher stages. It is correct in seeing that if this progression con-
tinued uninterrupted, it would result in the complete integration of all
major parts. The hypothesis also accords with the solution I noted for
overcoming problems of technological interdependence. But it fails to
notice that the stage immediately before total interconnection poses a
powerful barrier to this final step. A multiplicity of reverse-adapted,
large-scale systems would, in all likelihood, have the inclination and
power to oppose comprehensive centralization.

What we encounter here are different ways of thinking about

Autonomous Technology 256

problems of the technological state and technocracy. It is worthwhile
to examine them further.

The standard notion holds that technocracy is the result of two
major historical trends: (1) the movement toward an increasingly spe-
cialized division of labor which eventually produces a group of su-
preme technicians whose specialty is organizing the works of large
sociotechnical aggregations and (2) the movement toward centralized
control in the technological ensemble as a whole. Whatever the osten-
sible form of the political order, therefore, all real control in society is
exercised by an elite, often inconspicuous, acting at the central points
of planning and decision. Ellul’s discussion can be taken as typical.
“The basic effect of state action on techniques is to co-ordinate the
whole complex. The state possesses the power of unification, since it is
the planning power par excellence in society. In this it plays its true
role, that of co-ordinating, adjusting, and equilibrating social forces.
...It integrates the whole complex into a plan. Planning itself is the
result of well-applied techniques, and only the state is in a position to
establish plans on the national level.””29 Ellul argues that the modern
state is best seen as a “cold impersonal mechanism that holds all sources
of energy in its hands.’?39 At other times he pictures it as something of
the equivalent of the carrier RNA molecule in protein synthesis; the
state arranges the various parts of the technological order in their final
and most successful configuration. The state is ‘“‘the relational appa-
ratus which enables the separate techniques to confront one another
and to co-ordinate their movements.” 3!

Necessary for the building of this supernetwork is an elite of highly
trained technicians, planners, and managers, masters of “state tech-
niques,” who bring the whole into fine tune. ‘State constitutions do
not alter the use of techniques, but techniques do act rather rapidly
on state structures. They subvert democracy and tend to create a new
aristocracy ... there is a limited elite that understands the secrets of
their own techniques, but not necessarily of all techniques. These men
are close to the seat of modern governmental power. The state is no

Technological Politics 257

longer founded on the ‘average citizen’ but on the ability and knowl-
edge of this elite.”32 Ellul’s two chapters ‘Technique and the Econ-
omy” and ‘‘Technique and the State” describe in detail the various
skills and training—new methods of measurement, prediction, planning,
and control—which members of the new elite employ. As we would
expect from our earlier encounter with technocratic theory, both citi-
zen and politician are pretty well eclipsed by this new collection of
rulers. More important, however, they are eclipsed by the circumstances
in the technological order itself—the need for planning, coordination,
comprehensive integration—which make the technical aristocracy neces-
sary. “The average man,” Ellul writes, “is altogether unable to pene-
trate technical secrets or governmental organization and consequently
can exert no influence at all on the state.’33 “When the expert has
effectively performed his task of pointing out the necessary ways and
means, there is generally only one logical and admissible solution
{emphasis added]. The politician will then find himself obliged to
choose between the technician’s solution, which is the only reasonable
one, and other solutions, which he can indeed try out at his own peril,
but which are not reasonable.” 34

In a summary of his position on the matter Ellul notes that there are
certain connections that result “from the internal necessity of the
regime.”’ This means that all persons in positions of power must “(a)
take a firm hold on the economy, (b) manage it on the basis of exact
mathematical methods, (c) integrate it into a Promethean society which
excludes all chance, (d) centralize it in the frameworks of nation and
state (the corporate economy today has no chance of success except as
a state system), (e) cause it to assume an aspect of formal democracy
to the total exclusion of real democracy, and (f) exploit all possible
techniques for controlling men.”35

It is basically this outlook that has guided research into the problem
of technocracy. To conduct an empirical study has meant that one find
the center or centers and determine whether technical elites are actually
in positions of control. These are matters that can be operationalized

Autonomous Technology 258

and tested. As we noted earlier, the studies of Meynaud and others have
produced equivocal findings. Some evidence supports the hypothesis.
Much of it does not.36

On the basis of the revised notions of technological politics pre-
sented here, however, I want to suggest an alternative conception of
technocracy. It is one which avoids the pitfalls of the centralist-elitist
notion and which, I believe, comes closer to defining the crucial
problem that writers on this question have been aiming at for some
time. The conception, although difficult to formulate in terms of pre-
cise indexes of measurement, could certainly be tested.

I offer it as follows. Technocracy is a manifestation of two influen-
ces upon public life, which we have dealt with at some length: the
technological imperative and reverse adaptation as they appear to a
whole society with the force of overwhelming necessity. From this
point of view it matters little who in specific obeys the imperative or
enacts the adaptation. It is of little consequence what the nature of
the education, technical training, or specialized position of such persons
may be; indeed, they need not be technically trained at all. Similarly,
the issue has little to do with whether there is a ‘‘center’’ of decisions,
who: occupies it, or what their personal, professional, or class interests
may be. The important matter concerns the kinds of decisions that any
intelligent person in a position of power and authority would be re-
quired to make when confronted with accurate information on the con-
dition of the technological order at a particular point in its develop-
ment. These decisions, involving substantial commitments of society’s
resources, are not necessarily based upon the inherent desirability of
consciously selected, independent ends. Rather, such decisions cope
with necessities arising from an existing configuration of technical
affairs.

Technocracy, in this interpretation, is a label properly applied to
public deliberations about technology in which our traditional ends-
means, tool-use notions no longer account for what takes place. The in-
fluence of socially necessary technical systems begins to constrain
rather than liberate political choice. Technological imperatives appear

Technological Politics 259

in public deliberations as generalized ‘‘needs’’ or “requirements”—for
example, the need for an increasing supply of electrical power—which
justify the maintenance and extension of highly costly sociotechnical
networks. Reverse adaptation takes the form of more specific goals and
projects—the endless crusade for a new manned bomber, for instance—
of the sort I have just described. One can assume that each of the tech-
nologies in question—systems of communication, energy supply, trans-
portation, industrial production—was originally founded upon some
widely accepted purpose: the accomplishment of a particular goal or
the continuous supply of a product or service. But the means to the
end, the system itself, requires its own means: the resources, freedom,
and social power to continue its work. It needs, among other things,
an atmosphere of laws and regulations to facilitate rather than limit its
ability to act. The pursuit of means for the means—the provision of
resources and enabling rules—may eventually lead the society to make
decisions and take action far removed from its original purpose. At
times these decisions can be onerous. They may promote a state of af-
fairs that, although not in itself desired, constitutes a needed step in the
development of a technical network society is committed to support.

Decisions made in the context of technological politics, therefore,
do carry an aura of indelible pragmatic necessity. Any refusal to sup-
port needed growth of crucial systems can bring disaster. The alterna-
tives range from utterly bad service, at a minimum, to a lower standard
of living, social chaos, and, at the far extreme, the prospect of lapsing
into a more primitive form of civilized life. For this reason, technologi-
cal systems that provide essential goods and services—electricity, gas,
water, waste disposal, consumer goods, defense, air, rail and auto-
mobile transportation, mass communications, and so on—are able to
make tremendous demands on society as a whole. To ignore these de-
mands, or to leave them insufficiently fulfilled, is to attack the very
foundations on which modern social order rests.

Illustrations of technological politics at work can be found in the
social history of virtually any significant modern technology: Through
their vast, generalized power, the railroads in the nineteenth century

Autonomous Technology 260

were able to shape many public goals and institutions, including the
institution of property itself. In our own time the influence and privi-
lege of the petroleum industry offers evidence of much the same kind.
How far, after all, is society prepared to alter its commitments in the
quest for fuel and lubrication? The answer seems obvious: very far
indeed. Footprints of technological imperatives and of reverse-adapted
social ends are to be found in the extremely mundane settings—tax
laws, government subsidies, right-of-way legislation, federal and state
budgets and contracts, foreign policy, and the host of regulations and
procedures dealing with safety, health, and the quality of goods and
services in important industries and utilities.

There is, of course, an element of corruption here. As I write, the
governments of Japan and the Netherlands have been thrown into chaos
with the revelations that the Lockheed Aircraft Corporation had paid
millions of dollars in bribes to officials of those nations to see to it
that Lockheed’s airplanes found an adequate market. Listening to de-
bates in the chambers of government previous to these disclosures, how-
ever, one would never have suspected that the purchase of the planes
was anything other than an expression of freely chosen public purpose.
Whether in patently corrupt or more ordinary, day-to-day manifesta-
tions, the influence of technological politics tends to erode the integrity
of processes through which modern society charts its course. We recall
that the administration of Bacon’s New Atlantis had an unsavoriness
linked to hints of bribery. Perhaps we are discovering what the philoso-
pher had in mind.

One virtue of the present interpretation is that technocratic phe-
nomena are not seen as anything extraordinary. Indeed they are simply
part of normal politics. To obey the imperatives or to work for reverse-
adapted ends comes to be seen as the epitome of political realism. Truly
tough-minded political actors anchor their ships at this dock. They
know what is undeniable, which steps must be taken to maintain exist-
ing technologies, avoid catastrophe, and keep the society stable and
prosperous.

This sort of political realism, furthermore, need not be borne by a

Technological Politics 261

special technocratic elite, the experts in white coats of the standard
image. To the contrary, it can be handled by laymen politicians or,
when the opportunity arises, even the public itself. Technocracy is
rooted in the acknowledgment of conditions whose force (if not whose
specific technical character) can be appreciated without years of expert
training. One need not look to the Wernher von Brauns, Robert Mc-
Namaras, orGlennSeaborgs of the world to see technocratic influences
as a part of decision making. Senators, congressmen, and voters are
more than capable of recognizing the essential agenda—seen in terms of
jobs, the health of the economy, the continued supply of desired com-
modities, and so forth—and arriving at the appropriate conclusions.

Finally, the view I am taking here does not find the essence of tech-
nocracy at the center of all centers. If what we have seen is correct,
then one would expect a dispersion of power into the functionally
specific large-scale systems of the technological order. The sytems do
on occasion appeal to the central decision-making organs of the state
for support and assistance, but it is incorrect to say that in so doing
they necessarily yield control of their affairs. Their tendency is, in fact,
to resist the final centralization Ellul predicted. The direction of gov-
ernance by technological imperatives and reverse adaptation runs from
megatechnical systems to the state.

How do these conclusions square with our previous discussion of
technocracy? An earlier chapter examined theories arguing that normal
politics would be eclipsed by the rise of technical elites. We found that
neither of two recent analysts of the matter, Don Price and John Ken-
neth Galbraith, was able to salvage a distinctive role for political knowl-
edge and political actors in an age of advanced technical means. While
their analyses do not point to the existence of a single, cohesive, self-
conscious technical elite, they do point to an increasingly dominant
manner of enfranchisement based on the authority of scientific and
technical knowledge. The approach we have now taken traces the fun-
damental source of important decisions in matters involving technology
beyond the role of any particular class or elite—technical, scientific,
administrative, or political—to the configuration of technological

Autonomous Technology 262

conditions themselves. We would expect that both members and non-
members of Galbraith’s technostructure and all four branches of Price's
scientific estate would have to respond to essentially the same impera-
tives.

In this understanding, the position of the traditional political actor is
not eliminated. Neither is it accorded an elevated standing. Technical

elites, at the same time, are not completely free to use their special °

knowledge in the unlimited pursuit of self or class interest. They too
are bound by the constraints and inertia of the technological systems in
which they work. It is true that the possession of technical knowledge
does give one an advantage—an enhanced legitimacy in what one says,
an opportunity for a stronger influence upon important decisions, and a
chance for a greater share of material and social rewards. But this con-
dition in itself does not entail the total supremacy of a new ruling class,

The theory of technological politics, then, is not at heart an elite
theory at all. Its emphasis rests upon an even broader vision of how
modern technology influences public life. The full range of techno-
logical circumstances in society tends to establish the central agenda of
problems politics must confront. It also determines, to a great extent,
the nature of the solutions to those problems well in advance of any
real act of political deliberation.

To be commanded, technology must first be obeyed. But the oppor-
tunity to command seems forever to escape modern man. Perhaps more
than anything else, this is the distinctly modern frustration.

The Revolution and Its Tools

The analysis offered here does not pretend to be the alpha and omega
of all contemporary political knowledge. I do believe, however, that it
contains some interesting insights.

As compared to more familiar models of politics—for example, those
of contemporary social science or of Marxism—the theory outlined
offers an alterative conception of the motives standing behind many
dominant courses of political action. Orthodox social science would
have us look to the various organized interests at work in the political

Technological Polltics 268

arena and the means they employ to actualize their aims. Decisions and
policies result from the clash of competing interests—the victories,
losses, and accommodations which their actions produce. That, in sum,
is politics, the social scientist explains.

Marxist analysts, on the other hand, would insist that we look at
divisions of class and the manifestations of class conflict. One’s social
consciousness and political role are determined by one’s relationship to
the means of production. In capitalist societies, the enforced political
mode is that which benefits the ruling class. But politics can also mean
the revolutionary opposition of the proletariat to this system of rule.
If the revolution succeeds, the substance of political life becomes that
of building socialism.

The theory of technological politics, as I have presented it, does not
set out to discredit or eliminate either of these conceptions. Instead, it
seeks to illuminate certain gaps or anomalies they contain. It can be
used as a supplement to either the pluralist interest model or analyses
focusing on class conflict, for what the theory seeks to establish is that
a significant deflection and restructuring of human motives occurs
when individuals approach technologies for the solutions of their prob-
lems. These deflections give a peculiar slant to the modern political
agenda that neither interest-group notions nor class theories suffi-
ciently explain. The preceding pages have tried to state what some of
these deflections are and give reasons for their occurrence.

Marxists will certainly want to say that this analysis stops short of
the true point. Behind the categories I have sketched lies a stark reality,
the dominance of the ruling class. What I have noted as reverse adapta-
tion or technological imperatives are actually footprints of ruling class
power. Those in positions of privilege and control are able to adjust
policies, decisions, and the apparent needs of society to match their
own interests. They do this so deftly as to make the whole arrange-
ment seem necessary.

The present view, in contrast, holds that no matter who is in a
position of control, no matter what their class origins or interests, they
will be forced to take approximately the same steps with regard to the

Autonomous Technology 264

maintenance and growth of technological means. According to the logic
we have traced, the pressures are very strong in this direction, perhaps
even insurmountable. Regardless of what the original motives of the
persons in power—proletarian ends or capitalist—the final results of
how society operates and what it produces are about the same. Since
so much of the real business of all modern societies is caught up in the
support and extension of large-scale technologies, the tendency to
follow imperatives and yield to the requirements of major productive
systems is simply taken for granted.

It is interesting to ask whether the views of the theory of techno-
logical politics and those of orthodox Marxism can ever be fully recon-
ciled. Herbert Marcuse and others of the Frankfurt school worked with
a blend of ideas from both perspectives, with mixed success. In Mar-
cuse’s later writing we find strands of reasoning from technopolitical
theory combined with premises from Hegelian, Marxist, and Freudian
thought. Although I have employed some of his arguments as reference
points for my discussion of the technological perspective, it must be
noted that Marcuse never bases his position in this tradition alone. He
delves into it on occasion when the better-developed notions of other
philosophies fail to speak to a particular question. In the end he comes
to the distinctively Marxian conclusion that the domination of modern
technology over man is constructed in ruling-class interest. ‘“‘Tech-
nology,” he observes, ‘‘is always a historical-social project: in it is pro-
jected what a society and its ruling interest intend to do with men and
things. Such a ‘purpose’ of domination is ‘substantive’ and to this ex-
tent belongs to the very form of technical reason.’ 37 Nevertheless,
Marcuse’s image of the ruling class bears the distinctive stamp of tech-
nopolitical ideas. “‘The Capitalist bosses and owners,” he writes, ‘‘are
losing their identity as responsible agents; they are assuming the func-
tion of bureaucrats in a corporate machine. Within the vast hierarchy of
executive and managerial boards extending far beyond the individual
establishment into the scientific laboratory and research institute, the
national government and national purpose, the tangible source of
exploitation disappears behind the facade of objective rationality.” 38

Technological Polltics 265

Shortly, I will try to clarify the line of demarcation that separates
Marxists’ views from those of technological politics. But first we must
consider another possible objection, namely, that the circumstances I
have described do not matter. Even if it is true that advanced techno-
logical systems do not live up to the tool-use ideal, one can still argue
that in the aggregate they are still tool-like. They do produce desired
results. The mass productive capacity of technological society provides
a set of material conditions that most persons find agreeable beyond
question. No one would willingly relinquish this level of material well-
being. Therefore, to suggest that highly advanced technological systems
become inflexible, self-propagating, and manipulative of the human
agencies they allegedly serve is merely to cite minor blemishes in an
otherwise rosy picture. And in the face of such boons, what difference
a few flaws?

The difference, it seems to me, can be appreciated only in compari-
son with aims and purposes that technological politics tends to deny. In
an earlier chapter I noted some of the ways in which the influence of
advanced technological practice helps to empty liberalism of much of
its ideal content. An even more instructive case, however, is found in
the example of modern revolutionary socialism. Here the emptying,
hollowing effects seem to be even more remarkable.

For the sake of argument, let us divide the ends of twentieth-century
socialism into two separate categories. In the first group we will place
the normal social and economic goals of any modern industrialized na-
tion, whatever its ideological commitment. State and society strive for a
high level of employment, a high growth rate, an increasing supply of
desired goods and services, and, in general, a higher standard of living.
Along with this usually comes the provision for a strong military de-
fense, a goal that sometimes pushes other aims down on the list of
priorities. Whether the government and the economy succeed in fulfill-
ing these ends is widely considered sufficient grounds for judging them
on the scale of success and failure. Let us call these goals those of the
technological maintenance state.

In contrast to these are the original ends of revolutionary socialism,

Autonomous Technology 266

in particular those of Marxist-Leninist theory. These offer a much
broader, much more ambitious set of goals for socialist politics. These
goals, supposed by Marxists to be inherent in the agenda of history,
include at least the following:
1. The abolition of the class structure of society.
2. The institution of worker participation and control in the affairs of
the economy and the state.
3. The construction of a truly communist society in which class
domination, exploitation and the division of labor itself are totally
absent.
The success of these objectives rests on the transfer of ownership of the
means of production from the capitalist class to the proletariat,
achieved by violent revolution. Once this change is accomplished, it is
understood that the other steps will follow in proper order. The victori-
ous proletariat will know how to proceed. In brief this is the vision of
things presented us in the writings of Marx, Engels, and Lenin, a vision
that has sustained radicals and revolutionaries for several generations.
For all of his criticism of capitalist exploitation, however, Marx still
admired the contributions of capitalism to the development of indus-
trial civilization. The bourgeoisie had broken down the barriers that
feudal society had placed in the path of this development. Early capi-
talists had assembled the necessary parts of a vast material and social
mechanism of progress. But with the successful completion of their
role, they stood as a brake upon further advancement of the means of
production. If the technical and economic capacity of modern indust-
rial society was to continue to expand, the capitalist class would have
to be done away with. After the seizure of power by the proletariat
there would be, Marx argued, a remarkable burst of technological
development. This would be a sure sign that the revolution was under-
way. In Marx’s words in the Manifesto of the Communist Party:

The proletariat will use its political supremacy to wrest, by degrees, all
capital from the bourgeoisie, to centralize all instruments of production
in the hands of the state, i.e., of the proletariat organized as the ruling

Technological Politics 267

class, and to increase the total of productive forces as rapidly as pos-
sible [emphasis added] .39

Much the same conclusion is to be found in Lenin’s writings in the
period shortly before and after the success of the Bolshevik Revolution.
In his talk ‘‘The Tasks of the Youth Leagues” (1920), he explains, “We
can build communism only on the basis of the totality of knowledge,
organizations and institutions, only by using the stock of forces and
means that have been left to us by the old society.”40 Lenin tells his
youthful audience that it will be necessary to rebuild, expand, and
modernize the entire system of production. “Communist society, as we
know, cannot be built unless we restore industry and agriculture, and
that, not in the old way. They must be re-established on a modern
basis, in accordance with the last word in science. You know that
electricity is that basis, and that only after the electrification of the
entire country, of all branches of industry and agriculture, only when
you have achieved that aim, will you be able to build for yourselves the
communist society which the older generation will not be able to
build.”4! Technical modernization and economic growth, therefore,
must come first. The goals of communism will have to be postponed.

In addition to his hopes for electrification, Lenin frequently called
attention to what he believed to be a major scientific development. His
essay “The Immediate Tasks of the Soviet Government” (1918) con-
tains the following statement: “The Taylor system, the last word of
capitalism in this respect, like all capitalist progress, is a combination of
the refined brutality of bourgeois exploitation and a number of the
greatest scientific achievements in the field of analysing mechanical
motions during work, the elimination of superfluous and awkward
motions, the elaboration of correct methods of work, the introduction
of the best system of accounting and control, etc.”42 He goes on to
say that “the Soviet Republic must at all costs adopt all that is valuable
in the achievements of science and technology in this field.... We
must organize in Russia the study and teaching of the Taylor system
and systematically try it out and adapt it to our own ends.”43

Autonomous Technology 268

The questions I wish to pose (although the history of this century
raises them much more eloquently) are these: Are the goals of socialist
revolution all equally compatible with the development of a large-scale
technological capability? Are there some favored more by this develop-
ment than others? Are there any that are in all practical fact denied?
More precisely, are technical means of the sort Lenin describes truly
instrumental in achieving both the goals of the technological mainte-
nance state and those ultimate ends of the communist vision?

It is not difficult to see that in the early days of any socialist regime,
the objectives of the maintenance state would receive precedence. The
revolution must be defended from its enemies, both internal and exter-
nal. The economy of the nation must be placed on a sound footing. For
this reason, one can expect that there would be a period of rapid build-
ing, organization, and rationalization designed to keep the regime afloat
at all. It is not surprising that the more ambitious ends of the revolu-
tion would be set aside temporarily while the real work at hand
continues.

But the question remains: What in the long run is the relationship of
these steps—steps toward rapid economic growth and the rationaliza-
tion of all productive activity—to the higher goals of the communist
tradition? The most poignant of all attempts to deal with this issue is
in Lenin’s State and Revolution. Written on the very eve of the October
Revolution, the essay ponders the probable and desirable progress of
the socialist state. In so doing it hits upon many of the crucial dilemmas
which have afflicted successful revolutionaries ever since.4#

Lenin begins with an analysis that identifies the state as an instru-
ment of class domination. The very existence of the state, he maintains,
is a sign of the irreconcilability of class antagonisms.4° By violent revo-
lution the bourgeois state is overthrown and the means of production
seized by the proletariat. Citing Friedrich Engels, Lenin refutes the
anarchist doctrine ‘“‘that the state should be abolished overnight.’ 46
Even after the socialist revolution there will still be a need for a prole-
tarian state to suppress the bourgeoisie. Eventually, however, the prole-
tarian state will succeed in its work and then begin the process of

Technological Politics 269

“withering away.”47 Lenin goes on to defend the proposition that the
transition from capitalism to ‘“‘classless society” or communism will
require, as Marx observed, a temporary dictatorship of the proletariat.
Against the “‘opportunists” and “petty bourgeois parties,’ however,
Lenin argues that the problem for the revolution is ‘not of perfecting
the machinery of the state, but of breaking up and annihilating it. 48
Again, it is the bourgeois state to which he refers. This leaves Lenin
with the dual task of describing the forms a reconstructed, proletarian
state will assume and of explaining how such a state will eventually
“wither” and give way to communist society. Since this is a matter
upon which Karl Marx was notably silent, the attempt is all the more
interesting.

In many ways Lenin’s discussion represents the most noble, opti-
mistic aims of the revolutionary tradition. His description of the so-
cialist state harkens back to the experience of the Paris Commune and
to Marx’s analysis of the accomplishments of that great event. State and
Revolution envisions a socialist order characterized by ahigh degree of
worker participation and universal equality. In contrast to much of
Lenin’s writing of that period, the book does not emphasize the leader-
ship or control of the Communist party. The side of Lenin fascinated
with the organization of power is largely absent. He calls for “the ex-
propriation of the capitalists, the conversion of all citizens into workers
and employees of one huge ‘syndicate’—the whole state—and the com-
plete subordination of the whole of the work of this syndicate to the
really democratic state of the Soviet of Workers’ and Soldiers’ Depu-
ties.”49 He speaks of a time when “all members of society ... have
learned how to govern the state themselves, have taken this business
into their own hands.”°° “tt is only with Socialism that there will com-
mence a rapid, genuine, real mass advance, in which first the majority
and then the whole of the population will take part—an advance in all
domains of social and individual life.’’>!

Beyond socialism lies the eventual transition to communist society
in which mankind will move “from formal equality to real equality,
to realizing the rule, ‘From each according to his ability; to each

Autonomous Technology 270

according to his needs.’’”?52 Lenin admits that he does not know exactly
how this will be accomplished. ‘‘By what stages, by means of what prac-
tical measures humanity will proceed to this higher aim—this we do not
and cannot know.” 3

It is clear, nevertheless, that Lenin believes that developments in the
socialist stage will be compatible with the eventual movement toward
communism. He is particularly confident that the proposed rapid de-
velopment of technology will facilitate and could not possibly hinder
the revolution’s ultimate purpose. Apparatus, technique, and organiza-
tion are in his eyes nothing but tools waiting to serve humanity.54 But
if what we have seen here is correct, Lenin’s hopeful anticipations can
be taken as forecasts of bad weather.

A case in point can be found in Lenin’s treatment of relations of
authority. The book takes pains to deny the legitimacy of all capitalist
and bourgeois democratic institutions. For example, it argues that exist-
ing parliaments are not representative bodies but merely means “‘to
repress and oppress the people.” °5 But while it denies the authority of
all prerevolutionary political institutions, the essay is careful to defend
a residual authority carried over from the capitalist world—the legiti-
macy of technique and of the leadership of technically proficient
persons. At the same time that Lenin calls for universal equality and
political participation without subordinate roles, he also argues that
technology requires subordination, hierarchy, and obedience. In the
following passage he cites with approval Engels’s views on the matter:

He first of all ridicules the muddled ideas of Proudhonists, who called
themselves ‘‘anti-authoritarians,” i.e., they denied every kind of au-
thority, every kind of subordination, every kind of power. Take a fac-
tory, a railway, a vessel on the high seas, said Engels—is it not clear that
not one of these complex technical units, based on the use of machines
and the ordered co-operation of many people, could function without
a certain amount of subordination and, consequently, without some

authority or power?°6

From this Lenin concludes, in agreement with Engels, ‘that authority
and autonomy are relative terms, that the sphere of their application

Technological Politics 271

varies with the various phases of social development, that it is absurd
to take them as absolute concepts.” 57
Throughout State and Revolution Lenin calls attention to the au-
thority and discipline associated with technological processes. The tech-
nique of modern industry, he observes, “requires the very strictest
discipline, the greatest accuracy in the carrying out by every one of the
work alloted to him, under the peril of stoppage of the whole business
or damage to mechanism or product.”5°8 But while this discipline is
necessary, it is also, he believes, entirely benign. In particular, it will not
include the maintenance of bureaucratic administration. “‘The workers,
having conquered political power, will break up the old bureaucratic
apparatus . . . and they will replace it with a new one consisting of these
workers and employees, against whose transformation into bureaucrats
measures will at once be undertaken.’?°9 The measures include election,
recall, equality of payment for all jobs, and a system in which each
person has a turn at administrative control and superintendence. 60
If Lenin is right, the revolution should bring a quantum jump in the
technological capacity of society as well as a remarkable shift of power
and control to the masses of people. Both of these developments, fur-
thermore, will occur in approximately the same arena—the industrial
organizations now owned by the proletariat. Is it possible that the two
might overlap or even conflict? Lenin foresees no such difficulty. After
the revolution abolishes private property and bureaucracy, all such
problems are solved. It is possible, he affirms, “within twenty-four
hours after the overthrow of the capitalists and bureaucrats, to replace
them, in the control of production and distribution, in the business of
control of labour and products, by the armed workers, by the whole
people in arms.” 61
This sounds reassuring until Lenin adds a poignant parenthetical
comment: “The question of control and accounting must not be con-
fused with the question of the scientifically educated staff of engineers,
agronomists and so on. These gentlemen work today, obeying the capi-
talists; they will work even better tomorrow obeying the armed wor-
kers.’? 62 Thus, the authority of scientific technique finds personifica-

or

Autonomous Technology 272

tion. Lenin asserts that men of this sort will remain entirely tool-like
in their role. But is this an assurance we can accept?

Two clouds form on the horizon. First is the possibility that a new
class will emerge from the group that Lenin sets aside. Will the knowl-
edge and obvious productivity of the technically proficient elevate
them to a position far above that of the armed workers? Is it not con-
ceivable that such people will begin to demand a greater proportional
reward? Is it not likely that they will organize their power as a cohesive
class unit pursuing its own interest?

A second and, I think, even more important prospect lies in the
possibility that the search for efficiency and productivity may find no
harmony with the mode of worker participation and control. Lenin
already has in mind a particular path to the optimal, scientific organi-
zation of the means of production. The path thrives on highly rational-
ized, authoritarian technics. What will happen if the demands and deci-
sions of the workers point in the direction of a less efficient, rational,
and productive industrial system? Lenin outlines a set of noble political
ends and a set of optimal technological ends. He seems to assume that
the two will have a good fit. Clearly, nothing could be less certain. In
the modern world the noble and the optimal are often found in con-
flict.

It is not my purpose to give a full analysis of Soviet historical ex-
perience. But I believe the evidence of more than a half-century leaves
us with some fairly well-established conclusions. Judged according to
the aims of the technological maintenance state—productivity, effi-
ciency, economic growth, supply of consumer goods and services, mili-
tary security, and so forth—the record of the regime has gotten increas-
ingly better. It is, in fact, a remarkable success. But if we measure its
progress by the distinctive ends of the revolutionary tradition—aboli-
tion of class structure, building of worker participation and control,
movement toward a truly communist social order—the Soviet Union
has failed miserably. These objectives have now been for the most part
simply forgotten or drained of their original meaning.

Why this happened has been the subject of decades of heated contro-

Technological Politics 273

versy, from Rosa Luxemburg to Daniel Cohn-Bendit.®3 Certainly, there
are many factors which account for the course that the revolution took
—the personalities of its leaders, factional conflict, the pressures of war
and economic crisis, and so forth. The element singled out here—the
stringent demands of the technological systems which the revolution
inherited from the capitalist order or implemented soon thereafter—is,
I believe, arguably one of the more important of such factors, although
it would be absurd to conclude that this influence alone accounts for
the tone and direction that Soviet policy took after 1917. But it 7s one
aspect of the story. Its special significance becomes apparent when one
considers the question, Why did the change in ownership of the means
of production make so little difference in changing the basic pattern of
social and economic life? The fact that one achieves ownership does not
mean that one is immediately capable of changing the networks of
apparatus, technique, and organization to suit revolutionary goals. Par-
ticularly if survival is at stake, tampering with the mechanism takes on
a very low priority.64

Here an interesting problem for Marxist theory comes into view.
Lenin, like many other revolutionary socialists, did believe that the
contradictions we now see between the goals of the technological main-
tenance state and those of communist revolution would eventually be
resolved. All of the steps he recommended for the rapid technological
development of Russia—Taylorism, electrification, and the restoration
of agriculture and industry ‘“‘in accordance with the last word in
science.”®5_were in his eyes completely compatible with and, indeed,
necessary for the advent of true communism: His conjectures about the
way this would occur are based on one of the few fairly solid state-
ments that Karl Marx ever made on the conditions that would exist in
the further stages of revolutionary development. Lenin quotes Marx’s
Critique of the Gotha Program:

In a higher phase of Communist society, when the enslaving subordina-
tion of individuals in the division of labour has disappeared, and with it
also the antagonism between mental and physical labour; when labour
has become not only a means of living, but itself the first necessity of

Autonomous Technology 274

life; when, along with the all-round development of individuals, the pro-
ductive forces too have grown, and all the springs of social wealth are
flowing freely—it is only at that stage that it will be possible to pass
completely beyond the narrow horizon of bourgeois rights, and for so-
ciety to inscribe on its banners: from each according to his ability; to

each according to his needs!66

Lenin expands upon Marx’s passage with an astounding claim. A “gigan-
tic development of the productive forces,” he says, ‘‘will make it pos-
sible to break away from the division of labor.’ §7 In particular, he
understands this to mean that technology will advance to a point at
which the “antagonism between mental and physical labour” can be
done away with altogether. Capitalism, he explains, ‘‘retards this de-
velopment.” 68 It is the final stumbling block standing between
humanity and a totally equalitarian social order. Hence the rationale for
destroying capitalism is much more than a desire to rid the world of
exploitation. Once the capitalists are gone, advanced technology will
provide the objective conditions necessary for ‘‘that high stage of
development of Communism.” ®9

What was Lenin, or for that matter Marx, thinking of here? It is no
small question. On it hangs the matter of what it is possible for a suc-
cessful Marxian revolution to accomplish. Lenin’s expectation is that all
advanced, scientific technologies point toward an eventual abolition of
the division of labor. On the basis of twentieth-century experience with
technology, is this a reasonable expectation? Quite the contrary, it
would seem. As larger, more powerful, more complex technical systems
are built, the division of labor becomes more and more highly de-
veloped. There is a proliferation in the kinds of levels and compart-
ments in that division. The gap between physical and mental tasks
grows larger rather than smaller. Purely technical progress as it affects
the social relations of work seems to require an increasingly refined
and stratified collection of productive roles. Almost nothing in our ex-
perience shows us anything different.

It is precisely at this point that Lenin’s and most other revolutionary

Technological Politics 275

and utopian schemes go on the rocks. One can seek the high levels of
productivity that modern technological systems bring. One can also
seek the founding of a communal life in which the division of labor,
social hierarchy, and political domination are eradicated. But can one in
any realistic terms have both? I am convinced that the answer to this is
a firm ‘‘no.”’ The reasons can be found in the theory we have examined
as to what constitutes a technology, reasons confirmed by the historical
evidence of this century.

Lenin, however, does not leave us totally in the dark about what his
own expectations were. If we study his argument about the relation-
ship of technology and the division of labor, we find his belief that the
divisions were already in fact breaking down. The capitalists were, he
believed, doing all they could do to enforce purely contrived separa-
tions in varieties of work, mental and physical, which would surely col-
lapse with the coming of a revolution. The progress of capitalist tech-
nique had made the distinction between workers and administrators
totally obsolete. “In its turn, capitalism, as it develops, itself creates
prerequisites for ‘every one’ to be able to really take part in the admini-
stration of the state. Among such prerequisites are: universal literacy,
already realised in most of the advanced capitalist countries, then the
‘training and discipline’ of millions of workers by the huge, complex,
and socialised apparatus of the post-office, the-railways, the big facto-
ries, large-scale commerce, banking, etc., etc.”70 Most importantly,
capitalist technology had brought with it a profound simplification in
all socially productive functions. It was no longer possible to defend
bureaucratic and administrative roles on the basis of the extremely high
levels of education and expertise required for effective performance.
“The accounting and control necessary for this have been simplified by
capitalism to the utmost, till they have become the extraordinarily
simple operations of watching, recording and issuing receipts, within
reach of anybody who can read and write and knows the first four rules
of arithmetic.”?! In Lenin’s view, therefore, the combined effect of
education and simplification in the sphere of productive relations

aM

Autonomous Technology 276

would continue to make the division of labor—as well as the hierarchi-
cal, stratified social order based upon it—a feeble anachronism doomed
to extinction.

Lenin’s point here does make some sense. We all know of positions
of supposed expertise and technical sophistication in modern organiza-
tions that actually require little special education, extraordinary knowl-
edge, or talent. It is also true that certain kinds of technology do sim-
plify the tasks of manual work and of information handling. But to find
in these facts a tendency toward universal simplification and the aboli-
tion of the very rationale for the division of labor is to carry the point
to absurdity. The dominant tendency moves in the opposite direction.
Especially if one decides to take one’s cues from the most sophisticated
technology available, the number of specialized functional divisions re-
quired in almost every productive enterprise will continue to increase.
The linking together of these functions creates a situation of greater
complexity rather than less.

It is interesting to speculate about a kind of technology that would
allow the division of labor to become a thing of the past—a technology
that would not breed social stratification, hierarchy, and inequalities of
privilege. But this is not at all the technology Lenin describes. It is, fur-
thermore, not very helpful to begin the search for such things by assum-
ing that the normal course of technological progress will create them
automatically.

Here, then, to add to our growing catalog, is yet another meaning of
the notion of autonomous technology. The Marxist faith in the benefi-
cence of unlimited technological development is betrayed by the fact
that the destinations reached are simply the wrong ones. The supreme
confidence that things would be different if only the technological tool
could be owned and controlled by the workers runs into precisely the
difficulties we have noticed. It is difficult to get a handle on these
“tools,” difficult to do anything different with them, difficult to over-
come the patterns they so strongly impress upon social relationships.
Thus, even when the revolution is in season, its orientation toward
things technical lays it wide open to the reverse adaptation of its best

Technological Politics 277

ends. To the horror of its partisans, it is forced slavishly to obey im-
peratives left by a system supposedly killed and buried. Technological
politics does away with much of the villainy in history, but it leaves the
tragedy intact.

Some hopes are raised by the possibility that the Chinese revolution
has learned a sobering lesson from the experience of the Russians and is
trying a different route to socialism. Through the institution of the dia-
lectical “‘three-in-one” concept and other devices in the organization
of work, China evidently seeks to counteract technological tendencies
at odds with Mao’s vision of politics. Evidence of the success of this
attempt, however, remains entirely inconclusive./2

It is important to notice that the movement I have been tracing here
is not an ideological one. The victory of technics over politics does not
occur because large numbers of persons have suddenly abandoned
liberalism, Marxism, or some other political philosophy to adopt a new
set of doctrines. It is not necessary to conclude, for example, that a
“cult of efficiency,” an enthusiastic group of technophiles, has taken
over the reins of government around the world. Habermas argues that
the practice of scientific technology does bring with it specific ideologi-
cal commitments.’3 That is no doubt correct. But it would be a mis-
take to suppose that this ideology has been taken up by great numbers
of men and women as a political cause. Indeed, it can be said that those
who best serve the progress of technological politics are those who
espouse more traditional political ideologies but are no longer able to
make them work.

Ellul puts it well: “Things happen today in the political sphere with-
out the benefit of the minutest theory.” /4 He suggests that if one
wants a label for the kind of government the mid-twentieth century has
produced, the most accurate one would be “state capitalism.” But,
again, this has nothing to do with the rise of a doctrine or ideology of
state capitalism. Neither is it a manifestation of the ascendance of the
ideology of efficiency. It is the fact of efficiency, he argues, that really
matters. ‘Political doctrine, since about 1914, works in this way: the
state is forced by the operation of its own proper techniques to form its

Autonomous Technology 278

doctrine of government on the basis of technical necessities. These
necessities compel action in the same way that techniques permit It.
Political theory comes along to explain action in its ideological aspect
and in its practical aspect (frequently without indicating its purely
technical motives). Finally, political doctrine intervenes to justify ac-
tion and to show that it corresponds to ideals and to moral principles.
The man of the present feels a great need for justification. He needs the
conviction that his government is not only efficient but just. Unfortu-
nately, efficiency is a fact and justice a slogan.” 75

The position we have seen can be summarized as follows: technology
is now a kind of conduit such that no matter which aims or purposes
one decides to put in, a particular kind of product inevitably comes
out. This state of affairs is not well suited to political theory in any
traditional sense. The theory of technological politics itself, even when
it hones its critical edge, usually ends up being little more than an
elaborate description. Somehow one has to remember the content of
other theories and visions in order to catch a sense of its significance at
all. In the end, the best “theory” for a world of this kind might well be
a series of aerial photographs showing the gradual expansion of the

technological grid.

Chapter 7
Complexity and the Loss of Agency

We have already covered ground sufficient to raise serious questions for
conventional interpretations of technology. The blithe claim that the
apparatus, techniques, and organized systems of the modern age are
merely neutral, available tools subject to spontaneous use and to ob-
vious modes of control has been criticized and, I believe, badly dented.
An additional subject, however, remains to be examined before the
viewpoint we have been developing is complete. Missing from our treat-
ment so far is an encounter with one of the most widely cherished
beliefs in the conventional understanding—that there is nothing that
human beings know so well as their own artifice.

The most eloquent of modern spokesmen for this point of view was
Thomas Hobbes. A century before similar arguments were advanced by
Giambattista Vico, Hobbes pointed out that the highest certainty was
found in purely artificial things, things people put together and can
also take apart. ‘Geometry, therefore is demonstrable,” he wrote,
“for the lines and figures from which we reason are drawn and
described by ourselves; and civil philosophy is demonstrable because we
make the commonwealth ourselves.”! This view did not, of course,
originate with Hobbes. In The Republic Plato’s working image of cer-
tainty rests squarely upon examples drawn from techne, the practical
and scientific arts. To know something thoroughly, one would know it
in the sense that a craftsman, physician, or other highly skilled person
knows his work and its products. Finding in this model a reliable link
between theory and practice, Plato suggests that the knowledge of jus-
tice applied to the construction of the best state must have the same
quality. Politics becomes an activity of enlightened artifice.”

In his introduction to the Leviathan Hobbes carries this confidence
to its most optimistic conclusion. He portrays the state as a marvelous
device, a well-constructed machine which mirrors God’s own best little
mechanism, man...

For what is the heart, but a spring; and the nerves, but so many strings;
and the joints, but so many wheels, giving motion the whole body, such
as was intended by the artificer? Art goes yet further, imitating that

leaks: |

Autonomous Technology 280

rational and most excellent work of nature, man. For by art is created
that great LEVIATHAN called a COMMONWEALTH, or STATE, in
Latin CIVITAS, which is but an artificial man; though of greater stature
and strength than the natural, for whose protection and defence it was
intended; and in which the sovereignty is an artificial soul, as giving life
and motion to the whole body.?

Hobbes argues that, in principle at least, such a state could be con-
structed with absolute perfection and certainty. The artificer, in this
case a single creator, the political theorist, would know in advance the
complete contents of well-established order. He would know it right
down to its very soul, the source of its life and motion.

An interesting variation of the same idea occurs in the literature of
autonomous technology. Of course, we are by now accustomed to see-
ing society depicted as a vast mechanism. But writers concerned with
problems of technology-out-of-control have frequently echoed Hobbes
in suggesting that such an artifact—the Leviathan of interconnected
technical systems—has a soul of its own. In its very nature, this is not a
soul that is planned in advance or inserted into the machine by design.
Instead, it is a quality of life and activity springing from the whole after
the myriad of parts have been fashioned and linked together. A ghost
appears in the network. Unanticipated aspects of technological struc-
ture endow the creation with an unanticipated telos.

Now, what can possibly be meant by that?

If I am not mistaken, the reader has probably read the previous
chapters with mixed feelings. Some of the points I have drawn from the
technological perspective may seem valid, others subject to criticism.
That is inevitable. In reopening these questions, in trying to jolt a whole
collection of habits in our thinking, I have deliberately courted some
extremes. This intention is placed to its ultimate test as it confronts

ideas of the following sort:

Technique has become a reality in itself, self-sufficient, with its special

laws and its own determinations.*

Technique tolerates no judgment from without and accepts no limi-
‘on 0

tation.

Complexity and the Loss of Agency 281

Technique, in sitting in judgment on itself, is clearly freed from this
principal obstacle to human action.®

The power and autonomy of technique are so well secured that it, in
its turn, has become the judge of what is moral, the creator of a new
morality. Thus, it plays the role of creator of a new civilization as

well.”

These assertions are found in the section of Ellul’s book entitled
“Autonomy of Technique,” a section which tries to describe the ulti-
mate significance of technique in modern history. By now, we are pre-
pared to understand his metaphysical formulations as broad, challeng-
ing metaphors. We can penetrate their aura of mystification and inter-
pret them in terms of the specific issues we have examined. At the same
time, one must not overlook the fact that Ellul is talking as if technique
had a soul. This is more than a metaphor. There is a sense in which he
means it to be taken in a literal sense. Ellul agrees with Hobbes that the
vast artificial creation does have a willful, active, self-determining
quality of its own. It is not the sovereignty of the commonwealth,
fashioned by a single omniscient creator, but the autonomy of tech-
nique generated within the interlocking parts of a complex structure
built in bits and pieces over the years by millions of intelligent hands.

To put it differently, Ellul moves to the conclusion that technique
does manifest an intrinsic Geist. There is no doubt that this thesis has
religious meaning for him. Man now worships Mammon rather than
God. Mammon obliges by taking on lifelike characteristics. Ellul,
however, goes even further, offering the idea as a factual assertion as
well. We saw earlier that his sociology rests on the validity of Durk-
heimian ‘‘social facts’ which appear, sui generis, in the social order.
Extending this view he proposes as a question of fact that the modern
technological ensemble develops a character, possibly even a spirit, unto
itself, which is distinct from the structure or behavior of any of its
specific parts.

This is, indeed, a most peculiar aspect of the style of thinking we have
been studying. But one need not embrace either Ellul’s religious senti-
ments or adopt the scientific problems in the notion of social facts to

Autonomous Technology 282

make sense of the fundamental point in question. There is another
path available.

If, by comparison, one remains a skeptic and finds it impossible to
believe in the existence of a human soul, one sometimes tries to explain
that the notion of ‘‘soul’’ is simply a way of representing certain phe-
nomena in the life of human beings not as yet well understood. ‘‘Sou!”
fits conveniently into a lacuna in our understanding. As the sciences
teach us more about human physiology, chemistry, psychology, and be-
havior, we have fewer and fewer occasions in which to use the term.
Similarly, the idea of autonomous technology in. the grand sense that
Ellul ultimately suggests can be taken as an attempt to fill another kind
of gap in our understanding. Which? I am convinced it is this: the gap
between complex phenomena that are part of our everyday experience
and the ability to make such phenomena intelligible and coherent. It
is this problem, in a true sense the capstone for the other issues raised
so far, to which we must now turn. How well, after all, do members of
the technological order know their artificial environment?

Complexity: Manifest and Concealed

It is commonly assumed that ours is an age of increasing intelligence.
Man knows more about the world than at any previous time. According
to some estimates, the sum of scientific knowledge is doubling with
each decade. Worldwide literacy increases at a rapid rate. Schools, uni-
versities, and research institutions proliferate, making access to knowl-
edge available to more and more people. In general, it is safe to say that
most social institutions employ much more refined varieties of techni-
cal information than ever before.

Nevertheless, there is a case to be made that this is also an era of
rapidly increasing ignorance. It is true that more and more knowledge
is gathered through an ever-expanding array of means. Yet mastery of
knowledge appears to be waning in the sense that ever less of what is
known can be digested, taught, learned, or utilized by any given indi-
vidual, group, or organization. If ignorance is measured by the amount

Complexity and the Loss of Agency 283

of available knowledge that an individual or collective ‘“‘knower’’ does
not comprehend, one must admit that ignorance, that is, relative igno-
rance, is growing.

In The Act of Creation, Arthur Koestler speaks of this situation in
the life of the well-educated mid-twentieth-century man.

He utilizes the products of science and technology in a purely posses-
sive, exploitive manner without comprehension or feeling. His relation-
ship to the objects of his daily use, the tap which supplies his bath, the
pipes which keep him warm, the switch which turns on the light—in a
word, to the environment in which he lives, is impersonal and posses-
sive.... Modern man lives isolated in his artificial environment, not
because the artificial is evil as such, but because of his lack of compre-
hension of the forces which make it work—of the principles which
relate his gadgets to the forces of nature, to the universal order. It is not
central heating which makes his existence ‘“‘unnatural,” but his refusal
to take an interest in the principles behind it. By being entirely depen-
dent on science, yet closing his mind to it, he leads the life of an urban
barbarian.®

Koestler’s description of the “urban barbarian” seems to me accurate.
But his explanation of the malady is inadequate. It is not that indi-
viduals refuse to learn the principles upon which their environment
runs. Rather, it has become impossible for them to learn anything but
the smallest portion of the knowledge necessary to make their world
fully comprehensible. ‘

The dimensions of this state of affairs can be appreciated by re-
examining the question of complexity.2 As we have seen, technical
creation advances through division and resynthesis. Segments of the
preexisting world are broken down and reassembled in new and more
productive forms. An important characteristic of this process is that
while the phenomenon of the finished whole is available to the public,
the knowledge upon which it is fashioned usually does not become part
of widely shared social experience. On the contrary, the detailed infor-
mation and theory appropriate to a particular technique, apparatus, or
organization becomes the exclusive domain of specialists in that field.

Autonomous Technology 284

Nonspecialists cannot be expected to know anything about the subject.
It would require too much time and effort for the individual to learn
the workings of all the arrangements in his milieu.

One is left, therefore, with a society in which knowledge is highly
fragmented, in which each person knows one or a few things very well.
Its members are unable to account for the operations of parts not
included in their particular specialties. They are not prepared to under-
stand the synthesis of larger wholes. Society is composed of persons
who cannot design, build, repair, or even operate most of the devices
upon which their lives depend. In this sense, specialists of various
stripes are left to trade on each other’s ignorance.

The condition resulting from the circumstances described is one I
wish to call manifest social complexity. The technological society con-
tains many parts and specialized activities with a myriad of interconnec-
tions. The totality of such interconnections—the relationships of the
parts to each other and the parts to the whole—is something which is no
longer comprehensible to anyone. In the complexity of this world,
people are confronted with extraordinary events and functions that are
literally unintelligible to them. They are unable to give an adequate
explanation of man-made phenomena in their immediate experience.
They are unable to form a coherent, rational picture of the whole.
Under these circumstances, all persons do and, indeed, must accept a
great number of things on faith. They are aware that the major com-
ponents of complex systems usually work, that other specialists know
what they are doing, and that somehow the whole fits together in rela-
tively good adjustment. Their way of understanding, however, is
basically religious rather than scientific; only a small portion of one’s
everyday experience in the technological society can be made scientific.
For the rest, everyone is forced to depend upon and have faith in mat-
ters about which one has little information or intelligent grasp. It is

this condition that Ellul describes as the source of the modern versions
of mystery, magic, and the sacred. 10

The unintelligibility of complex sociotechnical phenomena is com-
pounded by another set of circumstances. The development of ad-

Complexity and the Loss of Agency 285

vanced electronics has made it possible to conceal the complexity of
important functions. Many kinds of interactions can be reduced to elec-
trical impulses and placed in the microminiaturized circulta of com-
puters and instruments of communications. Such devices are highly
complex in their internal structures and processes. But this complexity
is enclosed within the boundaries of the apparatus and removed from
public view. Matters of intricate business formerly handled through
face-to-face encounters or bureaucratic Paperwork are transferred to
hardware capable of astounding speed and efficiency. Banking, travel
reservations, factory management, product distributions, and the
day-to-day business of countless organizations are now taken care of in
this manner. In another decade or SO, Money itself might disappear, to
be replaced by instantaneous computerized accounting. Manifest social
complexity is replaced by concealed electronic complexity. Relation-
ships and connections once part of mundane experience (in the sense
that some person had to attend to them at each step) are now trans-
ferred to the instrument. The unintelligible mass of sociotechnical inter-
connections is enshrouded in abstraction.

Concealed complexity gains much of its significance by contributing
new dimensions to the technological extension of human capacities,
Electronic media, as McLuhan tells us again and again, overcome limita-
tions of space, time, and distance. They enable one to communicate
and to act effectively over great expanses in an instant. The most
important of the technical systems of the modern age are structurally
complex and spatially extended and make the handling of daily
business through face-to-face relations increasingly irrelevant.

In encounters with both manifest and concealed complexity, the
plight of members of the technological society can be compared to that
of a newborn child. At first the child cannot organize the buzzing chaos
of worldly phenomena. Much of the data that enters its sense does not
form coherent wholes. There are many things the child cannot under-
stand or, after it has learned to speak, cannot successfully explain to
anyone. But with time children begin to make sense of the world.
Through trial and error and processes of social learning, they begin to

Autonomous Technology 286.

comprehend and gradually master more and more of the environment
in which they live.

Citizens of the modern age in this respect are less fortunate than
children. They never escape a fundamental bewilderment in the face of
the complex world that their senses report. They are permanently
swamped by extraordinary phenomena bombarding them from every
side. They are not able to organize all or even very much of this into
sensible wholes. Unlike the child, their personal probings and social
learning offer no breakthrough into comprehensive understanding. The
best anyone can do is to master a few things in the immediate environ-
ment—enough for job, family, and a roof over one’s head. Anything
beyond that is both very difficult and risky. Unlike the child who when
successful in his learning reaches farther, members of technological
society learn to play it safe, to erect limits and abide by them. Indeed,
this is something of a prophylactic tendency, for to encompass the
whole (or even a substantial slice) would be to risk madness. Human
sensibility, understanding, and courage simply do not reach far enough.
Information overload, the human equivalent of the blown fuse, awaits
those who attempt to test this fate.

An objection might be raised that such conditions of ignorance do
not constitute a problem. The specialized skills and complex systems of
the technological society are available to anyone with access to them
regardless of how much the person knows about such things. All one
needs to know is the simple matter of who or what to employ and
where to plug in. There is no need to understand electricity or plumb-
ing in order to turn on a garbage disposal. No comprehensive grasp of
airlines organization is necessary to fly United. If anything, according
to this view, the lack of detailed information and the lack of a capacity
to make crucial complexities intelligible are positive virtues. After all,
why bother? Why not use the end products and let it go at that? Why
take on the extra burden of having to understand each instance of so-
phisticated artifice one comes upon? Obliviousness to such things is, in
fact, liberating. It permits us the time to lead lives which encompass
a variety of activities in work, travel, communication, and leisure ofa

Complexity and the Loss of Agency 287

scope totally unmatched in previous history. Potentially, at least, a
world of this sort opens these opportunities to all persons. Access is
really all that is required.

Another possible objection might be that there is no problem
because difficulties of the sort I have mentioned either do or soon will
have remedies. Society will find means of effective synthesis to deal
with the problems of understanding that arise from an increasingly
complex milieu. Systems theory, artificial intelligence, or some new
distinctively modern way of knowing will alleviate the burdens of infor-
mation overload.

Both of these responses have shortcomings. The first view is essen-
tially a reaffirmation of the image of hyperactive life in the technologi-
cal society. It excuses ignorance by pointing to the possibility of a new
level of performance. Members of the society are able to do more
things, more efficiently, over farther distances, at much faster speeds.
The busyness of the daily everything enhances freedom. It is, further-
more, what most people want. They are persons “‘on the go” with “all
systems go.” More, farther, and faster is the formula for virtue in the
modern age, our frenetic equivalent of the areté of the Greeks or the
piety of the Puritans.

But the hyperactive image belies a remarkably passive substance.
Yes, the available technologies do enable members of the society to do
a great many things. But the operators of modern gadgetry are almost
totally docile with respect to exercising any determining influence upon
the design, implementation, day-to-day operation, or choice of out-
puts of the systems that surround them. Even their notion of active,
vital use is more accurately seen as a passive utilization—a totally ac-
cepting, unquestioning relationship with technologies over which they
have no real power. This is, after all, what is involved in the variety of

citizenship that defines participation as consumption. One accepts
uncritically what issues from the productive mechanism.

The current furor of the consumer movement confirms this state of
affairs. Militant consumers have at last begun to ask for their money’s
worth. They insist on quality, health, and safety from the goods they

Autonomous Technology 288

purchase. But deep in the foundations of their argument is the
conviction that if producers truly were responsible, society would not
need watchdog measures. Producers would offer adequate goods as a
matter of course. We can perceive a yearning to return, after the battle
of the supermarket, to the tranquil time when the products were so fine
that one need not care how they were made. The idea that one might
want to pay much closer attention to the technological processes influ-
encing one’s existence and that this might be an area for critically
informed action is still totally foreign.

The desire for access to the “black boxes” produced by technology,
therefore, does not imply a desire for access to the inner workings of
technology itself. One becomes accustomed to the idea that systems are
too large, too complex, and too distant to permit all but experts an
inside view.

In answer to the second objection—that there now or soon will exist
tools of intellectual synthesis capable of dealing with extreme com-
plexity—I must report that I have found no such tools in practice. I have
elsewhere surveyed the various candidates for this honor—systems
theory and systems analysis, computer sciences and artificial intelli-
gence, new methods of coding great masses of information, the strategy
of disjointed incrementalism, and so forth.!! As relief for the difficul-
ties raised here—the bafflement of human intelligence by the socio-
technical complexity of the modern age—none of these offers much
help. This is not to say that these tools are ineffective in performing
certain tasks. They are effective in certain respects. But the hope that
such tools and methods would be able to unify fragments of human
knowledge and give a more intelligible picture of the whole appears
frustrated. We still suffer from a situation that Amitai Etzioni has
labeled ‘thigh input” with ‘deficient synthesis.” !2

One illustration will make clear what is involved in the search for
intellectual tools of this sort and also what is involved in the failure
to find them. For many years Ludwig von Bertalanffy and his col-
leagues have actively sought a “general systems theory.” The problem

Complexity and the Loss of Agency 289

to be overcome is similar to that which I have just described. ‘‘Modern
science,” he explains, “‘is characterized by its ever-increasing specializa-
tion necessitated by the enormous amount of data, the complexity of
techniques and of theoretical structures within every field. Thus science
is split into innumerable disciplines continually generating new sub-
disciplines. In consequence, the physicist, the biologist and the social
scientist are, so to speak, encapsulated in their private universes, and it
is difficult to get from one cocoon to the other.” 18 Bertalanffy’s plan
to reunify scientific knowledge is founded on both a metaphysical
supposition and faith in a particular kind of technique. He begins
with the idea that the world is stratified into distinct system levels,
which differ from each other in detail but share ‘‘general system proper-
ties.”” Scientists in various fields would study specific physical systems
as things in themselves and develop mathematical models to describe
their behavior. The models could then be compared, thus revealing
isomorphisms of ‘structural uniformities of the schemes we are apply-
ing.” “We can ask,”he suggests, “for principles applying to systems in
general irrespective of whether they are physical, biological or socio-
logical in nature. If we pose this question and conveniently define the
concept of system, we find that models, principles and laws exist which
apply to generalized systems irrespective of their particular kind, ele-
ments and forces involved.” !4

It is perhaps premature to judge the final success or failure of this am-
bitious program. But in the introduction to a recent book Bertalanffy
speaks of his disillusionment about the progress of the movement. He
notes that today ‘the student in systems science receives a technical
training which makes systems theory—originally intended to overcome
current over-specialization—into another of hundreds of academic spe-
cialties. Moreover, systems science, centered in computer technology,
cybernetics, automation and systems engineering, appears to make the
systems idea another—and indeed the ultimate—technique to shape man
and society ever more into the ‘mega-machine’ which Mumford has so

impressively described in its advance through history.” 15

Autonomous Technology 290

Bertalanffy’s dream of an ultimate intellectual tool—a science of
sciences—is frustrated by the very conditions it hoped to conquer. The
cure becomes merely another manifestation of the disease.

This appears generally true. The only effective way of dealing with
the complexity of the world and the fragmentation of knowledge is
to carry the division and specialization ever further. There are still those
who yearn for a new synthesis, a comprehensive vision of natural and
man-made reality. But the mainstream knows such persons to be futile
generalists, mystics, or crackpots, not to be taken seriously. In terms of
the real business of the culture, Paul Valéry’s conclusion in the essay
“Unpredictability” (1944) still seems accurate:

What has happened? Simply that our means of investigation and ac-
tion have far outstripped our means of representation and under-

standing.
This is the enormous new fact that results from all other new facts.

This one is positively transcendent. 16

It was precisely this problem that brought H. G. Wells, the most opti-
mistic of the prophets of modernity, to final despair. As we have seen,
Wells struggled for decades to come to grips with the implications of a
world of advanced technological marvels and to compose an idea of a
better world from them. But he finally concluded that all such attempts
were vain. In his last published work, The Mind at the End of Its Tether
(1945), he argues that the human mind is no longer capable of dealing

with the environment it has created.

Spread out and examine the pattern of events, and you will find your-
self face to face with a new scheme of being, hitherto unimaginable by
the human mind. This new cold glare mocks and dazzles the human
intelligence, and yet, such is the obstinate vitality of the philosophic
urge in the minds of that insatiable quality, that they can still under its
cold urgency seek some way out or round or through the impasse.

The writer is convinced that there is no way out or round or through

the impasse. It is the end.!7

Fearing the consequences of the wrong kind of integration of the mass

Complexity and the Loss of Agency 291

of new parts, Wells observes: “‘It is also possible that hard imaginative
thinking has not increased so as to keep pace with the expansion and
complication of human societies and organizations. That is the darkest
shadow upon the hopes of mankind.” 18

But is a comprehensive vision of the complicated whole really neces-
sary? A major argument of contemporary social science seeks to
demonstrate that society is able to operate quite well without this
capacity. Large-scale sociotechnical networks, it is argued, are self-
adjusting and self-correcting. Their coherence and rationality depend
upon thousands of intelligent choices, bargains, and adjustments made
at the various intersections of the organized system. Extended to the
relationships throughout society, this process brings harmony and
intelligence to the mass of fragmented, narrowly focused parts.

The most interesting statement of this position is found in Charles
Lindblom’s philosophy of ‘disjointed incrementalism.”!9 Lindblom
criticizes the ‘‘rational-comprehensive model’ of decision making de-
veloped by Herbert Simon and others. He observes that the model’s
quest for an all-encompassing overview ‘‘assumes intellectual capacities
and sources of information that men simply do not possess.” 20 Socie-
ties and organizations are much too large and complex to allow deci-
sion makers a synoptic vision of all factors relevant to policy choices.
But following the incrementalist “strategy,” this makes little difference.

Under the “‘strategy,’”’ which Lindblom believes organizations
actually do and certainly ought to follow, all moves are small ones.
Changes are made step by step with careful attention to existing
policies and conditions. As he puts it, “Only those policies are con-
sidered whose known or expected consequences differ incrementally
from the status quo.”2! All that a decision maker needs to understand
is the specific context of the particular choice before him. Knowledge
of the activities of the whole system is irrelevant except as it bears
directly on the incremental step at hand. The search for any broader
perspective on the situation should be considered a waste of time and

energy.

Autonomous Technology 292

The Lindblomian scheme of things has implications far beyond the
concerns of organization theory. Taken as a vision of social reality,
disjointed incrementalism explains the relationship of knowledge to
political action in the fragmented, complex mass of modern society.
Most importantly, it tells us why a dearth of knowledge about the
values of the whole of society and concern for those values causes no
problem. Taken at its word, incrementalism offers an elaborate justi-
fication for ignoring the concept of ‘“‘the public’? once and for all.

In “The Science of Muddling Through’ Lindblom tests his view
from the standpoint of government agencies. ‘“‘Suppose that each value
neglected by one policy-making agency were a major concern of at least
one other agency. In that case, a helpful division of labor would be
achieved, and no agency need find its task beyond its capacities.””22
“The virtue of such a hypothetical division of labor is that every impor-
tant interest or value has its watchdog.””23 Of course this is more than
hypothetical. Political scientists, Lindblom among them, argue that this
is how things actually work. Pluralism in the polity, as expressed by
organized interests, corresponds to pluralism in the government
bureaucracy. “Without claiming that every interest has a sufficiently
powerful watchdog, it can be argued that our system often can assure
a more comprehensive regard for the values of the whole society than
any attempt at intellectual comprehensiveness.””24

In the end, Professor Lindblom’s theory isolates the unintelligibility
of society and accompanying bafflement of the intellect as the ‘‘intel-
ligence of democracy” itself.25 The apparent strength of incrementalist
theory, however, is also the source of an interesting puzzle. The model
describes a massive, fragmented complex political system that, admit-
tedly, no one fully comprehends. Its promise is that if each of the frag-
ments comprehends and takes care of its own little sphere, the whole
will run smoothly and with the maximum possible good. But what is
it about disjointed incremental action that produces a society of har-
monious relationships? How is it that such a beneficent result is
achieved through the work of groups and individuals with little knowl-
edge of or concern for the good of each other or the good of society as

Complexity and the Loss of Agency 293

a whole? Is there a deus ex machina that intervenes to bring this
wonderful result?

At this point the idea of autonomous technology, seen as an aspect
of the complexity and unintelligibility of man’s sociotechnical environ-
ment, merges with the classic problem of the “invisible hand.” In Adam
Smith’s famous passage, the individual “intends only his own security;
and: by directing that industry in such a manner as its produce may be
of the greatest value, he intends only his own gain, and he is in this...
led by an invisible hand to promote an end which was no part of his
intention. Nor is it always the worse for society that it was no part of
it. By pursuing his own interest he frequently promotes that of society
more effectually than when he really intends to promote it’? 26

Lindblom’s contribution to this classic puzzle is to show that adjust-
ments take place through bargaining and to argue that the coherency
of the whole is insured so long as change occurs in moderate incre-
ments. ‘Societies, it goes without saying,”’ he says, ‘‘are complex struc-
tures that can avoid dissolution or intolerable dislocation only by meet-
ing certain preconditions, among them that certain kinds of change
are admissible only if they occur slowly.””27

But what if the invisible hand, even in the up-to-date Lindblomian
version, should lose its touch? Is there a level of complexity or rapidity
of change (or the two combined) in which the beneficence of the aggre-
gate process is no longer insured? Indeed, there are times when the
technological society appears to go incrementally mad. Devoid of any
clear vision of its purposes or adequate science of its own workings, the
complex self-adjusting mechanism rushes onward following some bene-
ficial paths and others that are manifestly destructive. Looking, for
example, at the modern city, one finds that the invisible hand ap-
parently has a mischievous counterpart that brings confusion, chaos,
and social ills on a colossal scale. At the center of such problems are
technical systems of various kinds, always intended to ‘improve
things,” which in their presence in the complex social fabric generate
as many dysfunctions as benefits. Thus, the question becomes: Which
of two invisible hands—the benevolent or malevolent—has the firmest

Autonomous Technology 294

grasp? Which hand is more likely to thrive in a situation of increasing
confusion?

In situations of this kind, large, complicated technologies have a
paradoxical role. They may indeed help to “‘solve’’ one or another of
the problems society encounters. At the same time, each addition to
the technological aggregate contributes to the process of helpless drift,
which itself defies solution. This is the condition Paul Goodman called
“the metaphysical emergency of Modern Times: feeling powerless in
immense social organizations; desperately relying on technological
means to solve problems caused by previous technological means; when
urban areas are technically and fiscally unworkable, extrapolating and
planning for their future growth. Then, ‘Nothing can be done.’ 728 As
long as our sociotechnical systems continue to produce satisfactory
conditions, as long as they function without a major hitch, complexity
appears to pose no problem. But when things begin to go awry, when
the technological order begins to generate surprising and undesirable
outcomes, then the consequences of the complexity of the modern
artifacts of civilization loom large. And one scarcely knows where to
begin.

There is, obviously, much more that could be said about these mat-
ters. If one were to pursue the question, one would certainly want to
inquire into the kinds of responses men and women have made to a
world of artificial phenomena of such mass, power, and complication.
What. has been the response of intellectuals, those who take it upon
themselves to develop means of making the major structures of culture
intelligible and meaningful? What, on the other hand, has been the
response of ordinary people as they move through the vast networks
trying to find their way about?

The quest for satisfactory answers would take us far beyond the
boundaries of the present work. I think, however, that a brief version
may look something like this. Both the intellectual and the ordinary
person in technological society are able to find satisfaction in images
and interpretations that in some ways represent the world in which
they exist. But the means of interpretation are themselves increasingly

Complexity and the Loss of Agency 295

artificial, narrowly focused, and designed for particular productive
effects. The ability to provide an intelligible account of the world on
a broad scale is simply beyond their power. For the intellectual this
means that an astounding proliferation of models, theories, and world
views invades the world of thought, each of them highly specialized,
tentative, and self-consciously artificial. Such “tools of inquiry’ are
understood to be heuristic, suggestive of fruitful interpretations, or
predictive of some relatively small range of variables. But since there are
frequent model changes and incessant retoolings, any initial confidence
in any one mode of interpretation diminishes rapidly. The knowledge
that ‘“‘this too is an artifact” requires that intellect must keep moving.
It never comes to rest, never finds a permanent home.

In much the same way, the ordinary citizen must rely on signals
transmitted by the mass media. He immerses himself in the metaworld
of shows, extravaganzas, commercials, news, and televised sports events
and allows them to represent a larger world that he cannot experience
firsthand.22 He knows better than to expect truth from the endless
stream of programs. Instead he seeks satisfaction, titillation, and a mini-
mal level of real information. He rests content in the belief that if any-
thing does happen, there will be a televised special on it. Thus, the
shape of history comes to be seen as a sequence of disconnected spe-
cials, which temporarily “interrupt our regularly scheduled program-
ming.” Along with other media ‘‘events,’’ which are known to be pure
contrivance, the ‘‘news”’ itself takes on the aura of contrivance. Human
beings do make their own history. Yes, but they do so in the same way
that they make a situation comedy or the TV Game of the Week.

The Loss of Agency in Technological Systems

In summary, the position developed here suggests that members of the
technological society actually know less and less about the fundamental
structures and processes sustaining them. The gap between the realities
of the world and the pictures individuals have of that world grows
ever greater. For this reason, the possibility of directing technological
systems toward clearly preceived, consciously chosen, widely shared

Autonomous Technology 296

aims becomes an increasingly dubious matter. Most persons are caught
between the narrowness of their everyday concerns and a bedazzlement
at the works of civilization. Beyond a certain point they simply do not
know or care about things happening in their surroundings. With
the overload of information so monumental, possibilities once crucial
to citizenship are neutralized. Active participation is replaced by a hap-
hazard monitoring. Thus, the technological order and its major subcom-
ponents, through paths already traced, are free to take on a character of
their own, which determines their destination. What one finds therefore,
are highly developed systems of control, which are themselves beyond
intelligence, beyond control, propelled toward goals that can be under-
stood only by studying those systems’ own peculiar inertia.30

The most important consequence of this situation is that, in a fun-
damental way, the whole society runs off track. The idea that civilized
life consists of a fully conscious, intelligent, self-determining populace
making informed choices about ends and means and taking action on
that basis is revealed as a pathetic fantasy.

But there are other consequences to be mentioned if this aspect of
the discussion is to make even a scant beginning. Under the conditions
described here one finds interesting problems of action in complex
technological aggregates. On occasion a particular system generates an
unexpected event whose origins and cause are a puzzle. Mistakes,
errors, and extraordinary lapses of control occur which simply should
not have happened. Deeds and misdeeds are done which seem to defy
any reasonable account. Certainly such occurrences are the exception.
But in the twentieth century they have taken place often enough to
indicate that the foundations of technological society are less reliable
than some had hoped.

In the following cases, taken from the history of modern warfare, I
want briefly to illustrate some difficulties of perception, control, and
responsibility which sometimes afflict complex technological systems.

A fascinating document from the Pentagon Papers supplies our first
example. The “Vietnam Bombing Evaluation by the Institute for
Defense Analysis’’ tells of a long period of time in which one large-scale

Complexity and the Loss of Agency 297

military system did not effectively perceive the circumstances of its
own action. The time was the summer of 1966 when United States
forces were conducting intensive bombing raids against the North Viet-
namese. After months of study the IDA experts delivered a stern judg-
ment: “As of July 1966 the U.S. bombing of North Vietnam (NVN)
had no measurable direct effect on Hanoi’s ability to mount and sup-
port military operations in the South at the current level.”31 The
report gives reasons why this was true..Among its findings is this: ‘“The
bombing clearly strengthened popular support of the regime by engen-
dering patriotic and nationalistic enthusiasm to resist the attacks.” 32

But the specifics are less interesting to us now than the IDA evalua-
tion of the broader circumstances in which bombing policies were made
and carried out. The report notes that ‘‘initial plans and assessments for
ROLLING THUNDER program clearly tended to overestimate the
persuasive and disruptive effects of the U.S. air strikes and correspond-
ingly, to underestimate the tenacity and recuperative capabilities of the
North Vietnamese.”33 Even more important, however, was the fact
that, once underway, there was no effective means of comprehending
the futility of the policy. According to the plan, the bombing would
disrupt the supply of North Vietnamese resources and effectively break
the will of the enemy to fight. The report observes: ‘‘These two sets of
interrelationships are assumed in military planning, but it is not clear
that they are systematically addressed in current intelligence estimates
and assessments. Instead, the tendency is to encapsulate the bombing
of NVN as one set of operations and the war in the South as another set
of operations, and to evaluate each separately; and to tabulate and de-
scribe data on the physical, economic, and military effects of the bomb-
ing but not to address specifically the relationships between such
effects and the data relating to the ability and will of the DRV (Demo-
cratic Republic of Vietnan) to continue its support of the war in the
South.” 34

In other words, the intelligence estimates were good at counting the
number of bridges, roads, and railroad tracks knocked out. But this
information had no direct bearing on the plans and policies in question.

Autonomous Technology 298

The IDA’s conclusion is eloquent in its anguish over what the Pentagon

had been doing:

The fragmented nature of current analyses and the lack of adequate
methodology for assessing the net effects of a given set of military
operations leaves a major gap between the quantifiable data on bomb
damage effects, on the one hand, and policy judgments about the feasi-
bility of achieving a given set of objectives, on the other. Bridging this
gap still requires the exercise of broad political-military judgments that
cannot be supported or rejected on the basis of systematic intelligence
indicators. It must be concluded, therefore, that there is currently no
adequate basis for predicting the levels of U.S. military effort that
would be required to achieve the stated objectives—indeed, there is no
firm basis for determining if there is any feasible level of effort that
would achieve these ob jectives.35

Not wanting to be purely negative, the report closes with.a few sug-
gestions. It strongly recommends the building of a multisystem barrier
across the demilitarized zone, employing the latest in military and com-
munications hardware. ‘‘Weapons and sensors which can make a much
more effective barrier, only some of which are now under development,
are not likely to be available in less than 18 months to 2 years. Even
these it must be expected, will eventually be overcome by the North
Vietnamese, so that further improvements in weaponry will be neces-
sary. Thus we envisage a dynamic ‘battle of the barrier,’ in which the
barrier is repeatedly improved and strengthened by the introduction of
new components, and which will hopefully permit us to keep the North
Vietnamese off balance by continually posirig new problems for
them.”36

In the grand style of twentieth-century technomania, the IDA
analysts propose that the Pentagon move from round one to round two
in the technology of destruction. Is it possible, however, that the new
system, the electronic battlefield, would produce just as great or even
greater dissociation from reality? Harold L. Wilensky has argued that
“information pathologies” are endemic in large-scale organizations.3”
‘In all complex social systems, hierarchy, specialization and centraliza-

Complexity and the Loss of Agency 299

tion are major sources of distortion and blockage of intelligence.” 98
While some of these difficulties can with cost be minimized, the source
is never fully eliminated. ‘Intelligence failures are rooted in structural
problems that cannot be fully solved; they express universal dilemmas
of organizational life.”39 What bizarre foulups and errors will result
from this is a less interesting question if your own life is not at stake.
Cross-eyed, out of focus, unsure of the exact location of its own mighty
appendages, the machine prepares to smash its next victims.40
From an earlier period of time comes an interesting incident, which
would now be classified as a problem of “command and control.” Are
large, complex technological systems always amenable to guidance,
even by those in the most obvious and powerful positions of control?
On August 1, 1914, Europe balanced precariously on the brink of
holocaust. The Russians had failed to respond to Germany’s latest
ultimatum. In response, Kaiser Wilhelm declared a general mobilization,
which sent the Schliefen plan into action. The plan for Germany’s two-
front war had been in various stages of preparation since 1892. It called
for a swift and decisive strike against the western theater of battle. Bar-
bara Tuchman describes the situation as follows: “Once the mobiliza-
tion button was pushed, the whole vast machinery for calling up, equip-
ping, and transporting two million men began turning automatically.
. .- One army corps alone—out of the total of 40 in the German forces
—required 170 railway cars for officers, 965 for infantry, 2,960 for
cavalry, 1,915 for artillery and supply wagons, 6,010 in all, grouped in
140 trains and an equal number again for their supplies. From the
moment the order was given, everything was to move at fixed times
according to a schedule precise down to the number of train axles that
would pass over a given bridge within a given time.”41
Later in the day the kaiser began to have misgivings about the whole
matter. He had received word from his ambassador in London that the
British might be willing to intervene to keep France neutral in the com-
ing conflict. This would give Germany a one-front war or possibly no
war at all. The kaiser immediately summoned his chief of staff, General

Autonomous Technology 300

Helmuth von Moltke, and ordered that the forward thrust of the Schlie-

fen plan be stopped. The general’s answer was surprising.

“Your Majesty,” Moltke said to him now, “it cannot be done. The de-
ployment of millions cannot be improvised. If Your Majesty insists on
leading the whole army to the East it will not be an army ready for
battle but a disorganized mob of armed men with no arrangements for
supply. Those arrangements took a whole year of intricate labor to
complete”—and Moltke closed upon that rigid phrase, the basis for
every major German mistake, the phrase that launched the invasion of
Belgium and the submarine war against the United States, the inevitable
phrase when military plans dictate policy—“and once settled, it cannot
be altered.” 42

Tuchman points to historical evidence which indicates that, in fact,
the Schliefen plan could have been halted. But this argument was of no
comfort to Kaiser Wilhelm on that summer’s day. What he experienced
was a vast system of warfare triggered and then unstoppable even by
his imperial command. His knowledge included only those steps
required to start the complex mechanism rolling. Beyond that his
understanding was not sufficient to allow him effective action. Once he
had given the sign, the deed was for all intents and purposes irreversible.

True, such occurrences are fairly rare in the twentieth century. But
when they do occur their ramifications are completely lethal. The Viet-
nam war gives us at least one example of a diplomatic peace feeler that
was destroyed by an air strike programmed weeks in advance which no
one remembered to cancel.43 And it was not so long ago, the reader
will recall, that steps were taken to diminish the danger that the com-
plex workings of military systems would set off an accidental nuclear
war—a possibility that was for a time very real. The incomprehensi-
bility, inflexibility, and tendency toward destructive inertia of such sys-
tems pose a continuing danger to the human populations of the earth,
including those segments in positions of ostensible control. That such
dilemmas are both in principle and in technique usually solvable offers
little comfort, for it may occur that the last unseen, unremedied lapse
of control will be the one that finishes the story.

Complexity and the Loss of Agency 301

A final group of illustrations bears on the question of responsi-
bility in large-scale systems. The twentieth century has given a peculiar
turn to the context in which deeds and misdeeds take place. One finds
that it is sometimes very difficult to locate praise or blame for events
that occur within massive aggregates of men and machinery. Upon
inspection one finds no person able or willing to say: ‘‘I did this thing.
I knew what I was doing. I will accept the consequences.”

We have all had experiences of this kind on a trivial level. Because of
a mistake in bureaucratic paperwork, a document important to one’s
activities is misplaced. An error in a computerized bank statement or
credit card account stirs up temporary problems in one’s finances.
In most such cases we simply say ‘Something must have gone wrong
somewhere along the line.” In a few days or weeks the disruption is
usually repaired. But the system at hand is too vast and the error too
insignificant to make the search for its specific origin worthwhile.

On a higher level of size and complexity, however, there are often
important problems surrounding the origin of events. A late 1960s
study of the workings of the Department of Defense by a presidential
Blue Ribbon Panel, reported extreme frustration in this regard. Within
the complicated structure of the Pentagon, the panel was often unable
to find where important decisions were made and who was subject to
praise or blame. 44

Circumstances of this sort enter the arena of history with stories like
that of Adolf Eichmann. At his trial in Jerusalem in 1961, Eichmann’s
defense argued that his guilt was strongly mitigated by the fact that he
was only a ‘“‘small cog” in a vast system.45 He had been in charge of a
set of railroad lines. His job was to see that the trains ran efficiently.
The larger context into which this transportation fit was not his con-
cern. His role in the bureaucracy and his specific orders were his only _
interest. In Hannah Arendt’s words: ‘‘As for the base motives, he was
perfectly sure that he was not what he called an innerer Schweinehund,
a dirty bastard in the depths of his heart; and as for his conscience, he
remembered perfectly well that he would have had a bad conscience
only if he had not done what he had been ordered to do—to ship

Autonomous Technology 302

millions of men, women, and children to their death with great zeal
and the most meticulous care.”46 Like so many other systems
employees of our age, Eichmann had a job to do and he did it.

To most of the world, nevertheless, Eichmann’s defense did not
wash. His excuse was a lame one, particularly when comparéd with the
magnitude of his crime. But at a later date, the trial of Lieutenant
William Calley for the massacre of civilians at My Lai, the same kind of
plea was introduced. Calley’s case soon became an American cause
célébre. His defense argued that he could not have been responsible for
the killings at the village since he was a mere cipher in the U.S. Army’s
vast mechanism. He was, in effect, too close to the deed to be at fault.
Calley, it was suggested, was being used as a scapegoat for those higher
up in authority. But as one looked upward, one found that the argu-
ment was one of diminished responsibility at that level as well. Those in
positions of near or distant command did not know (or said they did
not know) what was happening. Since they could not control every-
thing that occurred out in the field, it followed that they could not
reasonably be held to blame for the events that took place.

The logic here, described in full, is a wonder to behold. Both
proximity and distance count as excuses. The closer you are, the more
innocent; the farther away you are, the more innocent. It is a magni-
ficent arrangement in which everyone is safe except the victims. In a
system of this kind the very notion ofa “‘deed”’ seems to evaporate. The
concept of responsibility becomes as slippery as a squid in a fish market
bin. Difficulties in tracing origins—trivial in the case of one’s bank
statement—take on monumental proportions when the issue, as it was
with Eichmann and Calley, becomes genocide.

Some possible ramifications of this moral context are now at issue
in a variety of sophisticated technology mentioned earlier—the elec-
tronic battlefield. In a report edited by Raphael Littauer and Norman
Uphoff, The Air War in Indochina, is a description of a complex system
which. apparently increases both the possibility of lethal error and the
actors’ sense of remoteness from any concrete responsibility.

Complexity and the Loss of Agency 303

When friend and foe are intermingled, how can electronic sensing and
controlling devices discriminate between them? This remains a basic
problem under any conditions. A seismic detector cannot tell the differ-
ence between a truck full of arms and a school bus; a urine sniffer can-
not tell a military shelter from a woodcutter’s shack. The further the
U.S. goes down the road to automation, and the greater its capital
investment becomes relative to its investment in manpower, the more
deeply will it become committed to this blind form of warfare.

The human operator... is terribly remote from the consequences of
his actions; he is most likely to be sitting in an air-conditioned trailer,
hundreds of miles from the area of battle; from there he assesses ‘‘tar-
get signatures,”’ evaluates ambiguities in the various sensor systems, col-
lates their reports, and determines the tactical necessity for various
forms of action which are then implemented automatically. For him,
the radar blip and flashing lights no more represent human beings than
the tokens in a board type war game. War and war games become much
the same.47

One primary value of any system of responsibility is that it provides
an element of restraint. Excesses which might conceivably occur are
limited at their source, the consciousness and acts of individuals. To
the best of my knowledge, there have been no rigorous studies of how
automated warfare has affected the psychology of military action. But
the Littauer and Uphoff study gives some early sounding. It reports the
testimony of a retired general who participated in war games at the
National War College and who noticed a regular pattern of responses
among his fellows. ‘‘Those officers whose weapons systems delivered
death remotely were much more willing to call awesome amounts of
firepower into play.” 48

In classical ethics a person is excused from blame for a misdeed if
sufficient extenuating circumstances can be shown to exist. For
example, an automobile driver who injures a pedestrian may claim that
his responsibility is mitigated because he swerved to avoid a speeding
automobile. What is interesting about the new ethical context offered
by highly complex systems is that their very architecture constitutes
vast webs of extenuating circumstances. Seemingly valid excuses can

Autonomous Technology 304

be manufactured wholesale for anyone situated in the network. Thus,
the very notion of moral agency begins io dissolve.

Recognition of difficulties in piacing praise or blame for the be-
havior of complex systems is sometimes the cause for great delight
among some members of the technical intelligentsia. Computer scien-
tists have long hoped that truly autonomous computer programs—pro-
grams that perform unpredictably, creatively, and beyond the compre-
hension of their makers—would be a sign that work in artificial intelli-
gence had made substantial progress. Commenting on the views of A. L.
Samuel on this matter, Marvin Minsky writes, ‘His argument, based on
the fact that reliable computers do only that which they are instructed
to do, has a basic flaw; it does not follow that the programmer there-
fore has full knowledge of (and therefore full responsibility and credit
for) what will ensue. For certainly the programmer may set up an evo-
lutionary system whose limitations are for him unclear and possibly
incomprehensible.”49 Minsky may believe that the products of such
incomprehensible programs will be uniformly positive, that is, that pro-
grams that behave in ways its makers could not predict will achieve
marvels of performance in, for example, games of checkers. But what, is
to prevent possible detrimental effects following from such work? What
is to stop an incomprehensible program from developing a lethal edge?
Certainly not the programmer. In the very nature of the situation, he is,
according to Minsky, not truly entitled to “full credit” for his pro-
gram’s achievements, and, what is more to the present point, he cannot
be charged with ‘full responsibility” for his program’s possibly
devastating effects.

The problems for moral agency created by the complexity of tech-
nical systems cast new light on contemporary calls for more ethically
aware scientists and engineers. According to a very common and
laudable view, part of the education of persons learning advanced scien-
tific skills ought to be a full comprehension of the social implications of
their -work. Enlightened professionals should have a solid grasp of ethics
relevant to their activities. But, one can ask, what good will it do to
nourish this moral sensibility and then place the individual in an organi+

Complexity and the Loss of Agency 305

zational situation that mocks the very idea of responsible conduct?
To pretend that the whole matter can be settled in the quiet reflections
of one’s soul while disregarding the context in which the most powerful
opportunities for action are made available is a fundamental misunder-
standing of the quality genuine responsibility must have.

Already, in fact, conditions of unintelligibility and extenuation of
blame have set the stage for a novel doctrine of organizational cynicism
—‘‘plausible deniability.’’ Here, even those aware of unfortunate or un-
savory occurrences can arrange (before the fact) that their complex
environment prevents crucial information from reaching them and
“truthfully” claim later that they simply did not know. As revela-
tions from Watergate and the dealings of America’s ‘‘intelligence”’
community suggest, the idea of plausible deniability vastly increases the
possibility of tolerating evil until it is too late.

In the Eclipse of Reason Max Horkheimer observes that ‘‘as material
productions and social organization grow more complicated and reified,
recognition of means as such becomes increasingly difficult, since they
assume the appearance of autonomous entities.”59 This states the case
very well. My only quarrel with Horkheimer’s formulation is its empha-
sis on “appearance.” There are times in which the difference between
the distressing appearance and untenable reality of these autonomous
entities blurs totally. At such times it is the faith that ‘‘man controls
technology,” rather than the contrary view, which looms as an irra-

tional belief.

Chapter 8
Frankenstein’s Problem

Our inquiry began with the simple recognition that ideas and images of
technology-out-of-control have been a persistent obsession in modern
thought. Rather than dismiss this notion out of hand, I asked the reader
to think through some ways in which the idea could be given reasonable
form. The hope was that such an enterprise could help us reexamine
and revise our conceptions about the place of technology in the world.
In offering this perspective, I have tried to indicate that many of our
present conceptions about technics are highly questionable, misleading,
and sometimes positively destructive. I have also tried to lay some of
the early groundwork for a new philosophy of technology, one that
begins in criticism of existing forms but aspires to the eventual articu-
lation of genuine, practical alternatives.

A possible objection to the notions I have developed here is that
they are altogether Frankensteinian. Some may suppose that in choos-
ing this approach, the inquiry enters into an old and discredited myth
about the age of science and technology. It is easy, indeed, for the
imagination to get carried away with images of man-made monstrosi-
ties. And it is not difficult to get snagged on the linguistic hook which
allows us to talk about inanimate objects with transitive verbs, as if
they were alive. Some may even conclude that such traps fulfill a cer-
tain need and that autonomous technology is nothing more than an
irrational construct, a psychological projection, in the minds of persons
who, for whatever reason, cannot cope with the realities of the world in
which they live.

To doubts of this kind I would reply: Does the point refer to the
book or the motion picture? What, after all, is Frankenstein’s problem?
What exactly is at stake in the notorious archetypical inventor’s
relationship to his creation? Unfortunately, the answers to this ques-
tion now commonly derive not from Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley’s
remarkable novel but from an endless stream of third-rate monster
films whose makers give no indication of having read or understood the
original work. Here is a case in which the book is truly superior to the
movie. The Hollywood retelling fails to notice the novel’s subtitle,
‘A Modern Prometheus,” much less probe its meaning. The filmmakers

Frankenstein’s Problem 307

totally ignore the essence of the story written by a nineteen-year-old
woman, daughter of the radical political theorist William Godwin and
one of the earliest of militant feminists, Mary Wollstonecraft. As a con-
sequence, no justice is done to a work that it seems to me is still the
closest thing we have to a definitive modern parable about mankind’s
ambiguous relationship to technological creation and power.

In the familiar Hollywood version, the story goes something as
follows. A brilliant but deranged young scientist constructs a hideous
creature from human parts stolen from graveyards. On a stormy evening
in the dead of winter the doctor brings his creature to life and cele-
brates his triumph. But there is a flaw in the works. The doctor’s de-
mented assistant, Igor, has mistakenly stolen a criminal brain for the
artificial man. When the monster awakes, he tears up the laboratory,
smashes Doctor Frankenstein, and escapes into the countryside killing
people right and left. The doctor is horrified at this development and
tries to recapture the deformed beast. But before he can do so, the local
townspeople chase down the monster and exterminate him. This ending
is, of course, variable and never certain, lending itself to the needs for
a plot—over a forty-year period—for Boris Karloff, Bela Lugosi, Lon
Chaney, Jr., Peter Cushing, and Mel Brooks.

The fact of the matter is that the film scenarios have virtually noth-
ing to do with Frankenstein the novel. In the original there is no
crazed assistant, no criminal brain mistakenly transplanted, no violent
rampage of random terror, no final extermination of the creature to
bring safety and reassurance (although there is mention of a graveyard
theft). In the place of such trash, the book contains a story offering an
interesting treatment of the themes of creation, responsibility, neglect,
and the ensuing consequences. Let us see what Mary Shelley’s gothic
tale actually has to say.

From the time of his youth the young Genevan, Victor Franken-
stein, was fascinated by the causes of natural phenomena. “The world,”
he tells us, “‘was to me a secret which I desired to divine. Curiosity,
earnest research to learn the hidden laws of nature, gladness akin to
rapture, as they were unfolded to me, are amongst the earliest

Autonomous Technology 308

sensations I can remember.”! As he reaches maturity, his first response
to this lingering obsession is to probe alchemy and the occult, the texts
of Albertus Magnus and Paracelsus, in quest of the philosopher’s stone.
But realizing the futility of this research, he soon turns to the new
science of Bacon and Newton. He hears a professor tell how the modern
masters are superior to the ancients since they ‘‘penetrate into the
recesses of nature and show how she works in her hiding places,”2 a
distinctly Baconian notion of what is involved. Following the prin-
ciples of mathematics and natural philosophy, he eventually comes
upon ‘‘the cause of the generation of life; nay more, I became myself
capable of bestowing animation upon lifeless matter.’”3

To this point the story sounds very much like the one we all think
we know. But from here on the novel takes some surprising turns. One
evening Victor Frankenstein does bring his artificial man to life. He sees
it open its eyes and begin to breathe. But instead of celebrating his vic-
tory over the powers of nature, he is seized by a rash of misgivings.
“Now that I had finished, the beauty of the dream vanished, and
breathless horror and disgust filled my heart. Unable to endure the as-
pect of the being I had created, I rushed out of the room and continued
a long time traversing my bedchamber, unable to compose my mind to
sleep.””4 And what about the newborn “human” back in the labora-
tory? He is left to his own devices trying to figure out what in the
world has happened to him. Quietly he walks to Victor’s bedroom,
draws back the bed curtain, smiles, and tries to speak. But Victor, in
the throes of a crisis of nerve, is still not ready to accept the life that
he brought into existence and simply panics. ‘“‘He might have spoken,
but I did not hear; one hand was stretched out, seemingly to detain
me, but I escaped and rushed downstairs. I took refuge in the court-
yard belonging to the house which I inhabited, where I remained during
the rest of the night, walking up and down in the greatest agitation,
listening attentively, catching and fearing each sound as if it were to
announce the approach of the daemonical corpse to which I had so

miserably given life.”5

Frankenstein’s Problem 309

Thus, it is Frankenstein himself who flees the laboratory, Mad hia
benighted creation. The next morning Victor leaves the house alté+
gether and goes to a nearby town to tell his troubles to an old (rent
This is very clearly a flight from responsibility, for the creature [a atlll
alive, still benign, left with nowhere to go, and, more important,
stranded with no introduction to the world in which he must live. Vie:
tor’s protestations of misery, remorse, and horror at the results of his
work sound particularly feeble. It is clear, for example, that the mon-
strosity of his creation is in the first instance less a matter of its phyals
cal appearance than of Frankenstein’s terror at his own success. He Is
haunted henceforth not by the creature itself but by the vision of it in
his imagination. He does not return to his laboratory and makes no
arrangements of any kind to look after his work of artifice. The next
encounter between the father and his technological son comes more
than two years later. ,

An important feature of Frankenstein, the feature of the book that
makes it useful for our purposes, is that the artificial being is able
to explain his own position. Fully a third of the text is either ‘‘writ-
ten’”’ by his hand or spoken by him in dialogue with his maker. After his
abandonment in the laboratory, the creature leaves the place and enters
the world to make his way. Eventually, he takes up residence in a forest
near a cottage inhabited by a Swiss family. He eavesdrops on them,
notices how they use words, and after a while masters language himself.
Stumbling upon a collection of books, he teaches himself to read and
soon finishes off Paradise Lost, Plutarch’s Lives, and the Sorrows of
Young Werther. Later he examines the coat he had carried with him
from the laboratory and finds Frankenstein’s diary describing the cir-
cumstances of the experiment and giving the true identity of his maker.
When the creature finally meets. Victor on an icy slope in the Alps, he
is ready to state an eloquent case. Autonomous technology personi-
fied finds its voice and speaks. The argument presented emphasizes the
perils of an unfinished, imperfect creation, cites the continuing obliga-
tions of the creator, and describes the consequences of further insensi-
tivity and neglect.

Autonomous Technology 310

“I am thy creature, and I will be even mild and docile to my natural
lord and king if thou wilt also perform thy part, that which thou owest
me.’6

“You propose to kill me. How dare you sport thus with life? Do your
duty towards me, and I will do mine towards you and the rest of man-
kind. If you will comply with my conditions I will leave them and you
at peace; but if you refuse, I will glut the maw of death, until it be
satiated with the blood of your remaining friends.” 7

The monster explains that his first preference is to be made part of the
human community. Frankenstein was wrong to release him into the
world with no provision for his role or influence in the presence of
normal men. Already his attempts to find a home have had disastrous
results. He introduced himself to the Swiss family, only to find them
terrified at his grotesque appearance. On another occasion he uninten-
tionally caused the death of a young boy. He now asks Frankenstein to
recognize that the invention of something powerful and novel is not
enough. Thought and care must be given to its place in the sphere of
human relationships. But Frankenstein is still too thick and self-
interested to comprehend the message. ‘“‘Abhorred monster! Fiend that
thou art! ... Begone! I will not hear you. There can be no community
between you and me; we are enemies. Begone, or let us try our strength
in a fight, in which one must fall.”8

Despite this stream of invective, the creature continues to reason
with Victor. It soon becomes apparent that he is, if anything, the more
“human” of the two and the man with the better case. At the same
time, he leaves no doubt that he means business. If no accommodation
is made to his needs, he will take revenge. After a while Victor begins
to yield to the logic of the monster’s argument. “‘For the first time,”
he admits, ‘I felt what the duties of a creator towards his creature
were, and that I ought to render him happy before I complained of his
wickedness.’’? The two are able to agree that it is probably too late for
the nameless ‘“‘wretch” to enter human society, and they arrive at a
compromise solution: Frankenstein will return to the laboratory and
build a companion, a female, for his original masterpiece. “It is true,

Frankenstein’s Problem 311

we shall be monsters, cut off from all the world; but on that account
we shall be more attached to one another.” !0 The problems caused by
technology are to find a technological cure.

Of course, the scheme does not work. After a long period of procras
tination, Victor sets to work on the second model of his invention, but
in the middle of his labors he remembers a pertinent fact. The first
creature “had sworn to quit the neighborhood of man and hide himself
in deserts, but she had not; and she, who in all probability was to be-
come a thinking and reasoning animal, might refuse to comply with a
compact made before her creation.” !1 The artificial female would have
a life of her own. What was to guarantee that she would not make de-
mands and extract the consequences if the demands were not properly
met? Then an even more disquieting thought strikes Victor. What if
the two mate and have children? ‘‘A race of evils would be propagated
upon the earth who might make the very existence of the species of
man a condition precarious and full of terror.” 12 “] shuddered to think
that future ages might curse me as their pest, whose selfishness had not
hesitated to buy its own peace at the price, perhaps, of the existence
of the whole human race.”!3 Recognizing what he believes to be a
heroic responsibility, Victor commits an act of violence. With the first
creature looking on, he tears the unfinished female artifact to pieces.

From this point the story moves toward a melodramatic conclusion
befitting a gothic novel. The creature reminds Victor, “You are my
creator, but Iam your master,” and then vows, “J will be with youon
your wedding night.”14 He makes good his promise and eventually
kills Victor’s young bride Elizabeth. Frankenstein then sets out to find
and destroy his creature, but after a long period without success sues
cumbs to illness on a ship at sea. In the final scene the creature delivers
a soliloquy over Victor’s coffin and then floats on an ice raft, anneunes
ing that he will commit suicide by cremating himself on a funeral pyr@:

In recent years it has become fashionable to take Frankenstein
seriously. The book frequently appears as the subject of elaborate
psychosexual analyses, which seize upon some colorful episodes in thi
relationships of Mary Shelley, her famous mother and father, ap wall

Autonomous Technology 312

as Percy Bysshe Shelley and friend of the family, Lord Byron.!5 There
is no doubt some truth to these interpretations. The book abounds with
pointed references to problems of sexual identity, child-parent con-
flicts, and love-death obsessions. But there is also adequate evidence
that in writing her story Shelley was also interested in the possibilities
of science and the problems of scientific invention. In her time, as in
our own, it was not considered fantasy that the secrets of nature upon
which life depends might be laid open to scrutiny and that this knowl-
edge could be used to synthesize, in whole or in part, an artificial
human being.16 It is not unlikely in this regard that the book was
meant as criticism of the Promethean ideals of her husband. Percy
Shelley saw in the figure of Prometheus, rebel and life-giver, a perfect
symbol to embody his faith in the perfectibility of man, the creative
Power of reason, and the possibility of a society made new through en-
lightened, radical reconstruction. His play Prometheus Unbound sees
its hero released from the fetters imposed by the gods and freed for
endless good works. In its preface Shelley explains that “Prometheus
is, as it were, the type of the highest perfection of moral and intellec-
tual nature, impelled by the purest and truest motives to the best and
noblest ends.”!7 To the charge that the poet himself has gotten carried
away with “a passion for reforming the world,” Shelley replies: “For
my part I had rather be damned with Plato and Lord Bacon than go
to Heaven with Paley and Malthus.” !8 Plato and Lord Bacon?

Mary Shelley’s novel, published at about the same time as her hus-
band’s play, may well have been an attempt to rediscover the tragic
flaw in a vision from which Shelley hoped to eliminate any trace of
tragedy. In the Baconian-Promethean side of her spouse’s quest, the
side that marveled at the powers that could come from the discovery
and taming of nature’s secrets, she found a hidden agenda for trouble.
The best single statement of her view comes on the title page of the
book, a quotation from Milton’s Paradise Lost:

Did I request thee, Maker, from my clay
To mould me man? Did J solicit thee
From darkness to promote me?—

Frankenstein’s Problem 313

Suggested in these words is, it seems to me, the issue truly at stake If
the whole of Frankenstein: the plight of things that have been crentad
but not in a context of sufficient care. This problem captures the
essence of the themes my inquiry has addressed.

Victor Frankenstein is a person who discovers, but refuses t@
ponder, the implications of his discovery. He is a man who creates
something new in the world and then pours all of his energy into an
effort to forget. His invention is incredibly powerful and represents a
quantum jump in the performance capability of a certain kind of tech-
nology. Yet he sends it out into the world with no real concern for how
best to include it in the human community. Victor embodies an artifact
with a kind of life previously manifest only in human beings. He then
looks on in surprise as it returns to him as an autonomous force, with a
structure of its own, with demands upon which it insists absolutely.
Provided with no plan for its existence, the technological creation en-
forces a plan upon its creator. Victor is baffled, fearful, and totally
unable to discover a way to repair the disruptions caused by his half-
completed, imperfect work. He never moves beyond the dream of prog-
ress, the thirst for power, or the unquestioned belief that the products
of science and technology are an unqualified blessing for humankind.
Although he is aware of the fact that there is something extraordinary
at large in the world, it takes a disaster to convince him that the respon-
sibility is his. Unfortunately, by the time he overcomes his passivity,
the consequences of his deeds have become irreversible, and he finds
himself totally helpless before an unchosen fate.

If the arguments we have examined have any validity at all, it is
likely that Victor’s problems have now become those of a whole cul-
ture. At the outset, the development of all technologies reflects the
highest attributes of human intelligence, inventiveness, and concern.
But beyond a certain point, the point at which the efficacy of the tech-

nology becomes evident, these qualities begin to have less and less

Autonomous Technology 314

influence upon the final outcome; intelligence, inventiveness, and con-
cern effectively cease to have any real impact on the ways in which
technology shapes the world.

It is at this point that a pervasive ignorance and refusal to know, irre-
sponsibility, and blind faith characterize society’s orientation toward
the technical. Here it happens that men release powerful changes into
the world with cavalier disregard for consequences; that they begin to
“use” apparatus, technique, and organization with no attention to the
ways in which these “tools” unexpectedly rearrange their lives; that
they willingly submit the governance of their affairs to the expertise
of others. It is here also that they begin to participate without second
thought in megatechnical systems far beyond their comprehension or
control; that they endlessly proliferate technological forms of life that
isolate people from each other and cripple rather than enrich the
human potential; that they stand idly by while vast technical systems
reverse the reasonable relationship between means and ends. It is here
above all that modern men come to accept an over.whelmingly passive
response to everything technological. The maxim “What man has made
he can also change”? becomes increasingly scandalous.

Until very recently this adoption of an active image to mask the pas-
sive response seemed an entirely appropriate stance. The elementary
tool-use conception of scientific technology, essentially unchanged since
Francis Bacon, was universally accepted as an accurate model of all
technical conduct. All one had to do was to see that the tools were
in good hands. Reinforcing this view was a devout acceptance of the
idea of progress, originally an ideal of improvement through enlighten-
ment, the education of all mankind, and continuing scientific and tech-
nical advance. But éventually the technological side of the notion
eclipsed the others. Progress came to be coterminous with the enlarg-
ing sphere of technological achievement. This was (and still is) widely
understood to be a kind of ineluctable, self-generating process of
increasing beneficence—autonomous change toward a desirable telos.

Beyond these dominant beliefs and attitudes, however, lies some-
thing even more fundamental, for there is a sense in which all technical

Frankenstein’s Problem 315

activity contains an inherent tendency toward forgetfulness. Is not the
point of all invention, technique, apparatus, and organization to have
something and have it over with? One does not want to bother anymore
with building, developing, or learning it again. One does not want to
bother with its structure or the principles of its internal workings. One
simply wants the technical thing to be present in its utility. The goods
are to be obtained without having to understand the factory or the
distribution network. Energy is to be utilized without understanding
the myriad of connections that made its generation and delivery pos-
sible. Technology, then, allows us to ignore our own works. It is license
to forget. In its sphere the truths of all important processes are encased,
shut away, and removed from our concern. This more than anything
else, Iam convinced, is the true source of the colossal passivity in man’s
dealings with technical means.

I do not mean to overlook the fact that, on the whole, mankind
has been well served -in this relationship. The benefits in terms of
health, mobility, material comfort, and the overcoming of the physical
problems of production and communication are well known. That I
have not recounted them frequently is not a sign that I have forgotten
them. I live here too.

For the vast majority of persons, the simple, time-honored notions
about technology are sufficient. There are still eloquent public spokes-
men ready to explain the basic tenets at each suitable occasion. “When
you talk about progress, about the new and the different, the possibili-
ties are infinite. That’s what is so fascinating and compelling about
progress. The infinite possibilities. The potential for creating sights and
sounds and feelings that have not yet been dreamed of, for achieving all
that has yet to be achieved, for changing the world.” “For it must be
obvious to anyone with any sense of history and any awareness of
human nature that there will be SST’s. And Super SST’s. And Super-
Super SST’s. Mankind is simply not going to sit back with the Boeing
747 and say ‘This is as far as we go.’ ”’ 19

For the many who embrace this faith, any criticism of technology is
taken as vile heresy. Like Elijah defending Yahweh from the gods of

Autonomous Technology 316

Jezebel and Ahab, the choice for them is strictly either/or, monotheism
or not. Those who find problems in the technological content of this
culture or who seriously suggest that different kinds of sociotechnical
arrangements might be preferable are portrayed as absolute nay-sayers,
pessimists, or, worse, crafty seducers luring innocent victims toward the
brink of nameless dread.

There are, nevertheless, indications that the conversation is begin-
ning to widen its boundaries. True, the Elijahs are still on Mount
Carmel commanding piles of wood to catch fire (usually under some
new aircraft or weapons system). Enthusiastic boosters and cheerleaders
are still busy trying to obscure the fact that ‘‘progress’” once meant
something more than novel hardware and technique.29 But other voices
are beginning to speak. It is possible that a more vital, intelligent ques-
tioning is beginning to replace docile prejudice. Many now understand
why it is necessary to think and act differently in the face of techno-
logical realities and to begin the search for new paths.

This book is intended as a contribution to the effort to reevaluate
the circumstances of our involvement with technology. My aim has
been to sketch in some detail problems I thought were underestimated
or not sufficiently clear in other writings. The position of these perspec-
tives is not, as the boosters may conclude, that technology is a mon-
strosity or an evil in and of itself. Instead, the view has been much like
that of Mary Shelley’s novel, that we are dealing with an unfinished
creation, largely forgotten and uncared for, which is forced to make its
own way in the world. This creation, like Victor’s masterpiece, contains
the precious stuff of human life. But in its present state it all too often
returns to us as a bad dream—a grotesquely animated, autonomous
force reflecting our own life, crippled, incomplete, and not fully in our
control.

Is this a helpful conclusion to have drawn? Other than accounting
for one recurrent problem in modern thought, what does it offer?

Very little. Very little, that is, unless those who build and main-
tain the technological order are willing to reconsider their work. Victor
Frankenstein was blinded by two diametrically opposed beliefs: first,

Frankenstein’s Problem 317

that he would produce an artifact of undeniable perfection and, later
on, that his invention was a disaster about which nothing could be
done. For those willing to go beyond both of these conclusions, the rest

of the book offers a few more steps.

Technology as Legislation

Obviously there are a great many specific issues and approaches within
the general range of questions we have encountered. The ecology move-
ment, consumerism, future studies, the technology assessors, students
of innovation and social change, and what remains of the “counter-
culture”’ all have something to say about the ways in which technology
presents difficulties for the modern world. Since the reader is no doubt
familiar with the debates now raging over these issues, I will not review
the details. But in their orientations toward politics and their concep-
tions of how a better state of affairs might be achieved, the issue areas
sort themselves into roughly two categories.

In the first domain, far and away the most prominent, the focus
comes to rest on matters of risk and safeguard, cost.and benefit, distri-
bution, and the familiar interest-centered style of politics. Technology
is seen as a cause of certain problematic effects. All of the questions
raised in the present essay, for example, would be interpreted as ‘‘risks
taken” and “prices paid’”’ in the course of technological advance. Once
this is appreciated, the important tasks become those of (1) accurate
prediction and anticipation to alleviate risk, (2) adequate evaluation of
the costs that are or might be incurred, (3) equitable distribution of the
costs and risks so that one portion of the populace neither gains nor
suffers excessively as compared to others, and (4) shrewd evaluation of
the political realities bearing upon social decisions about technology.

Under this model the business of prediction is usually meted out to
the natural and social sciences. Occassionally, some hope is raised that
a new art or science—futurism or something of the sort—will be
developed to improve the social capacity of foresight. The essential task
is to devise more intelligent ways of viewing technological changes and
their possible consequences in nature and society. Ideal here would be

Autonomous Technology 318

the ability to forecast the full range of significant consequences in ad-
vance. One would then have a precise way of assigning the risk of pro-
ceeding in one way rather than another.?!

The matter of determining costs is left to orthodox economic analy-
sis. In areas in which ‘‘negative externalities’ are experienced as the
result of technological practice, the loss can be given a dollar value. The
price paid for the undesirable “‘side effects” can then be compared to
the benefit gained. An exception to this mode of evaluation can be seen
in some environmental and sociological arguments in which nondollar
value costs are given some weight.22 On the whole, however, considera-
tions of cost follow the form Leibniz suggested for the solution of all
rational disputes: ‘‘Let us calculate.” Taking this approach one tends to
ask questions of the sort: How much are you prepared to pay for pol-
lution-free automobiles? What is the public prepared to tax itself for
clean rivers? What are the trade-offs between having wilderness and
open space as opposed to adequate roads and housing? Are the costs
of jet airport noise enough to offset the advantage of having airports in
the middle of town? Such questions are answered at the cash register,
although the computer shows a great deal more style.

Once the risks have been assigned, the safeguards evaluated, and the
costs calculated, one is then prepared to worry about distribution. Who
will enjoy how much of the benefit? Who will bear the burden of the
uncertainty or the price tag of the costs? Here is where normal poli-
tics—pressure groups, social and economic power, private and public
interests, bargaining, and so forth—enters. We expect that those most
aware, best supplied, and most active will manage to steer a larger pro-
portion of the advantages of technological productivity their way while
avoiding most of the disadvantages. But for those who have raised tech-
nology as a political problem under this conception, reforms are needed
in this distributive process. Even persons who have no quarrel with the
inequities of wealth and privilege in liberal society now step forth with
the most trenchant criticisms of the ways in which technological
“impacts” are distributed through the social system. A certain radical-
ism is smuggled in through the back door. The humble ideal of those

Frankenstein’s Problem 319

who see things in this light is that risks and costs be allotted more equi:
tably than in the past. Those who stand to gain from a particular Inne:
vation should be able to account for its consequences beforehand, Thay
should also shoulder the major brunt of the costs of undesirable alde
effects. This in turn should eliminate some of the problems of gross
irresponsibility in technological innovation and application of previous
times. Since equalization and responsibility are to be induced through a
new set of laws, regulations, penalties, and encouragements, the atten:
tion of this approach also aims at a better understanding of the facts of
practical political decision making.

Most of the work with any true influence in the field of technology
studies at present has its basis in this viewpoint. The ecology move-
ment, Naderism, technology assessment, and public-interest science
each have somewhat different substantive concerns, but their notions of
politics and rational conduct all fit within this frame. There is little new
in it. What one finds here is the utilitarian-pluralist model refined and
aimed at new targets. In this form it is sufficiently young to offer spark
to tired arguments, sufficiently critical of the status quo to seem almost
risqué. But since it accepts the major premises and disposition of tradi-
tional liberal politics, it is entirely safe. The approach has already influ-
enced major pieces of legislation in environmental policy and consumer
protection. It promises to have a bright future in both the academic and
the political realms, opening new vistas for “research,” “‘policy analy-
sis,’ and, of course, “consulting.” 23

On the whole, the questions I have emphasized here are not those
now on the agendas of persons working in the first domain. But for
those following this approach I have one more point to add. It is now
commonly thought that what must be studied are not the technologies
but their implementing and regulating systems. One must pay attention
to various institutions and means of control—corporations, government
agencies, public policies, laws, and so forth—to see how they influence
the course our technologies follow. Fine. I would not deny that there
are any number of factors that go into the original and continued
employment of these technical ensembles. Obviously the “implement-

Autonomous Technology 320

ing’’ systems have a great deal to do with the eventual outcome. My
question is, however, In what technological context do such systems
themselves operate and what imperatives do they feel obliged to obey?
In several ways I have tried to show that the hope for some “alternative
implementation” is largely misguided. That one employs something at
all far outweighs (and often obliterates) the matter of how one employs
it. This is not sufficiently appreciated by those working within the utili-
tarian-pluralist framework. We may firmly believe that we are develop-
ing ways of regulating technology. But is it perhaps more likely that the
effort will merely succeed in putting a more elegant administrative facade
on old layers of reverse adapted rules, regulations, and practices?24

The second domain of issues is less easily defined, for it contains a
collection of widely scattered views and spokesmen. At its center is the
belief that technology is problematic not so much because it is the
origin of certain undesirable side effects but rather because it enters
into and becomes part of the fabric of human life and activity. The
maladies technology brings—and this is not to say that it brings only
maladies—derive from its tendency to structure and incorporate that
which it touches. The problems of interest, therefore, do not arrive by
chain reaction from some distant force. They are present and im-
mediate, built into the everyday lives of individuals and institutions.
Analyses that focus only upon risk/safeguard, cost/benefit, and distri-
bution simply do not reveal problems of this sort. They require a much
more extraordinary, deep-seeking response than the utilitarian-pluralist
program can ever provide.

What, then, are the issues of this second domain? Some of the most
basic of them are mirrored in our discussion of the theory of techno-
logical politics. This model represents the critical phase of a movement
of thought, the attempt to do social and political analysis with technics
as its primary focus. But these thoughts so far have given little care to
matters of amelioration. In the present formulation of the theory, I
have deliberately tried to avoid dealing in popular remedies. It is my
experience that inquiries pointing to broad, easy solutions soon become

Frankenstein’s Problem 321

cheap merchandise in the commercial or academic marketplaeh: PRay
become props for the very thing criticized.*5

For better or worse, however, most of the thinking in the seeand
domain at present is highly specific, solution oriented, and progtaii:
matic. The school of humanist psychology, writers and activista af thé
counterculture, utopian and communal living experimenta, the frees
schools, proponents of encounter groups and sensual reawakening, the
hip catalogers, the peace movement, pioneers of radical software and
new media, the founders and designers of alternative institutlonm al:
ternative architecture, and “appropriate” or “intermediate” teghe
nology—all of these have tackled the practical side of one or more of
the issues raised in this essay.

Much of the work has begun with a sobering recognition of the pay
chological disorders associated with life in the technological society,
The world of advanced technics is still one that makes excessive de-
mands on human performance while offering shallow, incomplete re-
wards. The level of stress, repression, and psychological punishment
that rational-productive systems extract from their human members is
not matched by the opportunity for personal fulfillment. Men and
women find their lives cut into parcels, spread out, and dissociated.
While the neuroses generated are often found to be normal and produc-
tive in the sociotechnical network, there has been a strong revolt against
the continuation of such sick virtues. Both professionals and amateurs
in psychology have come together in a host of widely differing attempts
to find the origins of these maladies and to eliminate them.

Other enterprises of this kind have their roots in a pervasive sense of
personal, social, and political powerlessness. Confronted with the major
forces and institutions that determine the quality of life, many persons
have begun to notice that they have little real voice in most important
arrangements affecting their activities. Their intelligent, creative partici-
pation is neither necessary nor expected. Even those who consider
themselves ‘‘well served” have cause to wonder at decisions, policies,
and programs affecting them directly, over which they exercise no

Autonomous Technology 322

effective influence. In the normal state of affairs, one must simply
join the “consensus.” One consents to a myriad of choices made, things
built, procedures followed, services rendered, in much the same way
that one consents to let the eucalyptus trees continue growing in Aus-
tralia. There are some, however, who have begun to question this sub-
missive, compliant way of life. In a select few areas, some people have
attempted to reclaim influence over activities they had previously let
slip from their grasp. The free schools, food conspiracies and organic
food stores, new arts and crafts movement, urban and rural communes,
and experiments in alternative technology have all—in the beginning at
least—pointed in this direction. With mixed success they have sought to
overcome the powerlessness that comes from meting out the responsi-
bility for one’s daily existence to remote large-scale systems.

A closely related set of projects stems from an awareness of the ways
organized institutions in society tend to frustrate rather than serve
human needs. The scandal of productivity has reached astounding pro-
portions. More and more is expended on the useless, demeaning com-
modities idealized in the consumer ethos (for example, vaginal deodor-
ants), while basic social and personal needs for health, shelter, nutri-
tion, and education fall into neglect. The working structures of social
institutions that provide goods and services seem themselves badly de-
signed. Rather than elicit the best qualities of the persons they employ
or serve, they systematically evoke the smallest, the least creative, least
trusting, least loving, and least lovable traits in everyone. Why and how
this is so has become a topic of widespread interest. A number of
attempts to build human-centered and responsive institutions, more
reasonable environments for social intercourse, work, and enjoyment,
are now in the hands of those who found it simply impossible to con-
tinue the old patterns.

Finally, there is a set of concerns, evident in the aftermath of Viet-
nam, Watergate, and revelations about the CIA, which aims at restoring
the element of responsibility to situations that have tended to exclude
responsible conduct. There is a point, after all, where compliance be-
comes complicity. The twentieth century has made it possible for a

Frankenstein’s Problem 323

person to commit the most ghastly of domestic and foreign crimes by
simply living in suburbia and doing a job. The pleas of Lieutenant
Calley and Adolf Eichmann—“I just work here’’—become the excuse of
everyman. Yet for those who perceive the responsibility, when distant
deeds are done and the casualties counted, the burdens are gigantic.
As Stanley Cavell and Nadezhda Mandelstam have observed, there is
a sense in which one comes to feel responsible for literally every-
thing.26 Evils perpetrated and the good left undone all weigh heavily
on one’s shoulders. Like Kafka’s K. at the door of the castle, the
concerned begin a search for someone or something that can be held
accountable.

I admit that I have no special name for this collection of projects.
Humanist technology has been suggested to me, but that seems wide of
the mark. At a time in which the industrialization of literature demands
catchy paperback titles for things soon forgotten, perhaps it is just as
well to leave something truly important unnamed.

The fundamental difference between the two domains, however, can
be stated: a difference in insight and commitment. The first, the utili-
tarian-pluralist approach, sees that technology is problematic in the
sense that it now requires legislation. An ever-increasing array of rules,
regulations, and administrative personnel is needed to maximize the
benefits of technological practice while limiting its unwanted maladies.
Politics is seen as the process in representative government and interest
group interplay whereby such legislation takes shape.

The second approach, disjointed and feeble though it still may be,
begins with the crucial awareness that technology in a true sense is
legislation. It recognizes that technical forms do, to a large extent,
shape the basic pattern and content of human activity in our time.
Thus, politics becomes (among other things) an active encounter with
the specific forms and processes contained in technology.

Along several lines of analysis this book has tried to advance the idea
central to all thinking in the second domain—that technology is itself a
political phenomenon. A crucial turning point comes when one is able
to acknowledge that modern technics, much more than politics as

Autonomous Technology 324

conventionally understood, now legislates the conditions of human
existence. New technologies are institutional structures within an evolv-
ing constitution that gives shape to a new polity, the technopolis in
which we do increasingly live. For the most part, this constitution still
evolves with little public scrutiny or debate. Shielded by the conviction
that technology is neutral and tool-like, a whole new order is built—
piecemeal, step by step, with the parts and pieces linked together in
novel ways--without the slightest public awareness or opportunity to
dispute the character of the changes underway. It is somnambulism
(rather than determinism) that characterizes technological politics—
on the left, right, and center equally. Silence is its distinctive mode of
speech. If the founding fathers had slept through the convention in
Philadelphia in 1787 and never uttered a word, their response to con-
stitutional questions before them would have been similar to our own.

Indeed, there is no denying that technological politics as I have de-
scribed it is, in the main, a set of pathologies. To explain them is to give
a diagnosis of how things have gone wrong. But there is no reason why
the recognition of technology’s intrinsic political aspect should wed us
permanently to the ills of the present order. On the contrary, projects
now chosen in the second domain bear a common bond with attempts
made to redefine an authentic politics and reinvent conditions under
which it might be practiced. As a concern for political theory this work
has been admirably carried forward by such writers as Hannah Arendt,
Sheldon Wolin, and Carole Pateman.2’ In the realm of historical studies
it appears as a renewed interest in a variety of attempts—the Paris
Communes of 1793 and 1871, nineteenth-century utopian experiments,
twentiety-century Spanish anarchism, the founding of worker and com-
munity councils in a number of modern revolutions—to create decen-
tralist democratic politics.28 In contemporary practice it can be seen in
the increasingly common efforts to establish worker self-management in
factories and bureaucracies, to build self-sufficient communities in
both urban and rural settings, and to experiment with modes of direct
democracy in places where hierarchy and managerialism had previously
ruled.29

Frankenstein’s Problem 325

Taken in this light, it is possible to see technology as legislation and
then follow that insight in hopeful directions. An important step comes
when one recognizes the validity of a simple yet long overlooked prin-
ciple: Different ideas of social and political life entail different tech-
nologies for their realization. One can create systems of production,
energy, transportation, information handling, and so forth that are
compatible with the growth of autonomous, self-determining indi-
viduals in a democratic polity. Or one can build, perhaps unwittingly,
technical forms that are incompatible with this end and then wonder
how things went strangely wrong. The possibilities for matching politi-
cal ideas with technological configurations appropriate to them are, it
would seem, almost endless. If, for example, some perverse spirit set
out deliberately to design a collection of systems to increase the general
feeling of powerlessness, enhance the prospects for the dominance of
technical elites, create the belief that politics is nothing more than a
remote spectacle to be experienced vicariously, and thereby diminish
the chance that anyone would take democratic citizenship seriously,
what better plan to suggest than that we simply keep the systems we
already have? There is, of course, hope that we may decide to do better
than that. The challenge of trying to do so now looms as a project open
to political science and engineering equally. But the notion that techni-
cal forms are merely neutral and that ‘‘one size fits all’ is a myth that
no longer merits the least respect.

Luddism as Epistemology
But what next? Following the normal pattern of twentieth-century
writing, I should now rush forward with suggestions and recommenda-
tions for how things might be different. What good are analyses, criti-
cisms, and perspectives, some might say, unless they point to positive
courses of action?

In view of what we have seen, however, it is not easy simply to take
a deep breath and begin spewing forth plans for a better world. The
issues are difficult ones. It has not been my aim to make them seem any
less difficult than they are. In my experience, virtually all of the

Autonomous Technology 326

remedies proposed are little more than tentative steps in uncertain
directions. Goodman’s plea for the application of moral categories to
technological action, Bookchin’s outlines for a liberatory technology,
Marcuse’s rediscovery of utopian thinking, and Ellul’s call to the
defiant, self-assertive, free individual—all of these offer us something.39
But when compared to the magnitude of what is to be overcome, these
solutions seem trivial. I could, I suppose, fudge the matter here and
seem to be zeroing in on some useful proposals. Having gone this far,
the reader can probably predict how it would look.

First, I could say that there is a need to begin the search for new
technological forms. Recognizing the often wrong-headed and oppres-
sive character of existing configurations of technology, we should find
new kinds of technics that avoid the human problems of the present
set. This would mean, presumably, the birth of a new sort of inventive-
ness and innovation in the physical arrangements of this civilization.

Second, I could suggest that the development of these forms proceed
through the direct participation of those concerned with their everyday
employment and effects. One major shortcoming in the technologies
of the modern period is that those touched by their presence have little
or no control over their design or operation. To as great an extent as
possible, then, the processes of technological planning, construction,
and control ought to be opened to those destined to experience the
final products and full range of social consequences.

Third, I might point to the arguments presented here and offer some
specific principles to guide further technological construction. One such
rule would certainly be the following: that as a general maxim, tech-
nologies be given a scale and structure of the sort that would be im-
mediately intelligible to nonexperts. This is to say, technological sys-
tems ought to be intellectually as well as physically accessible to those
they are likely to affect. Another worthy principle would be: that tech-
nologies be built with a high degree of flexibility and mutability. In
other words, we should seek to avoid circumstances in which techno-
logical systems impose a permanent, rigid, and irreversible imprint on
the lives of the populace. Yet another conceivable rule is this: that

Frankenstein’s Problem 327

technologies be judged according to the degree of dependency they
tend to foster, those creating a greater dependency being held inferior.
This merely recognizes a situation we have seen again and again in this
essay. Those who must rely for their very existence upon artificial sys-
tems they do not understand or control are not at liberty to change
those systems in any way whatsoever. For this reason, any attempt to.
create new technological circumstances must make certain that it does
not discover freedom only to lose it again on the first step.

Finally, I could suggest a supremely important step—that we return
to the original understanding of technology as a means that, like all
other means available to us, must only be employed with a fully in-
formed sense of what is appropriate. Here, the ancients knew, was the
meeting point at which ethics, politics, and technics came together. If
one lacks a clear and knowledgeable sense of which means are appro-
priate to the circumstances at hand, one’s choice of means can easily
lead to excesses and danger. This ability to grasp the appropriateness
of means has, I believe, now been pretty thoroughly lost. It has been
replaced by an understanding which holds that if a given means can be
shown to have a narrow utility, then it ought to be adopted straight off,
regardless of its broader implications.3! For a time, perhaps from the
early seventeenth century to the early twentieth, this was a fruitful
way of proceeding. But we have now reached a juncture at which such
a cavalier disposition will only lead us astray. A sign of the maturity of
modern civilization would be its recollection of that lost sense of appro-
priateness in the judgment of means. We would profit from regaining
our powers of selectivity and our ability to say ‘‘no” as well as ‘‘yes”’ to
a technological prospect. There are now many cases in which we would
want to say: ‘‘After all a temptation is not very tempting.’ 32

I am convinced that measures of this kind point to a new beginning
on the problems we have seen.2> At the same time, these proposals
have overtones of utopianism and unreality, which make them less than
compelling. It may be that the only innovation I have suggested is to
use my hat as a megaphone. There are excellent reasons why any call
for the taking of a new path or new beginning now falls flat.

Autonomous Technology 328

Not the least of these is simply the fact that while positive, utopian
principles and proposals can be advanced, the real field is already taken,
There are, one must admit, technologies already in existence—apparatus
occupying space, techniques shaping human consciousness and beha-
vior, organizations giving pattern to the activities of the whole society,
To ignore this fact is to take flight from the reality that must be cons
sidered. One finds, for example, that in the contemporary discussions
those most sanguine about the prospects for tackling the technological
dilemma are those who place their confidence in new systems to be im-
plemented in the future. Their hope is not that the existing state of
affairs will be changed through any direct action, only that certain
superior features will be added. In this manner the mass of problems
now at hand is skirted.34

Another barrier is this: even if one seriously wanted to construct a
different kind of technology appropriate to a different kind of life, one
would be at a loss to know how to proceed. There is no living body of
knowledge, no method of inquiry applicable to our present situation
that tells us how to move any differently from the way we already do.
Mumford’s suggestion that society return to an older tradition-of small-
scale technics and craftsmanship is not convincing. The world that
supported that tradition and gave it meaning has vanished. Where and
how techniques of that sort could be a genuine alternative is highly
problematic. Certainly a technological revivalism could add things to
the existing technological stock. But the kind of knowledge that would
make a difference is not to be found in decorating the periphery.

In no place is the force of these considerations better exemplified
than in the sorry fate of the counterculture of the late 1960s. The be-
lief of those who followed the utopian dream was that by dropping
out of the dominant culture and “‘raising one’s consciousness,’’ a better
way of living would be produced. In several areas of social fashion—
clothing, music, language, drug use—there were some remarkable inno-
vations. But behind the facade of style, a familiar reality still held sway.
The basic structures of life, many of them technological structures, re-

Frankenstein’s Problem 329

mained unchallenged and unchanged. Members of the movement con-
vinced themselves that with a few gestures they had transcended all of
that. But all of the networks of practical connections remained intact.
The best that was done was to give the existing patterns a hip veneer.
Members of the management team began to wear bell-bottoms and
medallions.

The lesson, I think, is evident. Even though one commits oneself to
ends radically different from those in common currency, there is no
real beginning until the question of means is looked straight in the eye.
One must take seriously the fact that there are already technologies
occupying the available physical and social space and employing the
available resources. One must also take seriously the fact that one
simply does not yet know how to go ahead to find genuinely new
means appropriate to the new “consciousness.” No doubt some faced
with this realization will simply wish to stop. They will see the virtual
necessity of co-optation and the impending disappointment for anyone
who tries to resist one’s technological fate. Some will find it impossible
to do anything else than retreat into despair and blame their plight on
“those in power.” But if I am not mistaken, the logic of the problem
admits at least one more alternative.

In many contemporary writings the response to the idea of autono-
mous technology reads something like this: ‘“Technology is not a jug-
gernaut; being a human construction it can be torn down, augmented
and modified at will.”35 The author of this statement, Dr. Glenn T.
Seaborg, would probably be the last person to suggest that any existing
technology actually be “torn down.” But in his mind, as in many
others, the conviction that man still controls technology is rooted in
the notion that at any time the whole thing could be taken apart and
something better built in its place. This idea, for reasons we have seen
all along, is almost pure fantasy. Real technologies do not permit such
wholesale tampering. Changes here occur through “invention,”
“development,” “progress,” and “growth”—processes in which more
and more additions are made to the technological store while some

Autonomous Technology 330

parts are eventually junked as obsolete. The technologies generated are
understood to be more or less permanent fixtures. That they might be
torn down or seriously tinkered with is unthinkable.

But perhaps Seaborg’s idea has some merit. As we have already
noted, is not the fundamental business of technics that of taking things
apart and putting them together? One conceivable approach to tackling
whatever flaws one sees in the various systems of technology might be
to begin dismantling those systems. This I would propose not as a solu-
tion in itself but as a method of inquiry. The forgotten essence of tech-
nical activity, regardless of the specific purpose at hand, might well be
revealed by this very basic yet, at the same time, most difficult of steps.
Technologies identified as problematic would be taken apart with the
expressed aim of studying their interconnections and their relationships
to human need. Prominent structures of apparatus, technique, and orga-
nization would be, temporarily at least, disconnected and made un-
workable in order to provide the opportunity to learn what they are
doing for or to mankind. If such knowledge were available, one could
then employ it in the invention of radically different configurations of
technics, better suited to nonmanipulated, consciously, and prudently
articulated ends.

None of this would be necessary if such information were obvious.
But at present it is exactly this kind of awareness and understanding
that is lacking. Our involvement in advanced technical systems resem-
bles nothing so much as the somnambulist in Caligari’s cabinet. Some-
what drastic steps must be taken to raise the important questions at
all. The method of carefully and deliberately dismantling technologies,
epistemological Luddism if you will, is one way of recovering the
buried substance upon which our civilization rests. Once unearthed,
that substance could again be scrutinized, criticized, and judged.

I can hear the outcry already. Isn’t this man’s Luddism simply an
invitation to machine smashing? Isn’t it mere nihilism with a sharp
edge? How can anyone calmly suggest such an awful course of action?

Again, I must explain that I am only proposing a method. The
method has nothing to do with Luddism in the traditional sense (the

Frankenstein’s Problem 331

smashing and destroying of apparatus). The much-maligned original
Luddites were, of course, merely unemployed workers with a flare for
the dramatic. As they scrutinized the mechanization of the textile trade
in the industrial revolution, they applied two interesting criteria. Does
the new device enhance the quality of the product being manufactured?
Does the machine improve the quality of work? If the answer to either
question or both is ‘‘no,” the innovation should not be permitted.
Banned from lawful union activity, the Luddites did what they could
and unwittingly brought upon themselves a lasting opprobrium.96

As best I can tell, there have never been any epistemological Lud-
dites, unless perhaps Paul Goodman was one on occasion. I am not
proposing that a sledge hammer be taken to anything. Neither do I
advocate any act that would endanger anyone’s life or safety. The idea
is that in certain instances it may be useful to dismantle or unplug a
technological system in order to create the space and opportunity for
learning.

The most interesting parts of the technological order in this regard
are not those found in the structure of physical apparatus anyway. I
have tried to suggest that the technologies of concern are actually forms
of kfe—patterns of human consciousness and behavior adapted to a
rational, productive design. Luddism seen in this context would seldom
refer to dismantling any piece of machinery. It would seek to examine
the connections of the human parts of modern social technology. To be
more specific, it would try to consider at least the following: (1) the
kinds of human dependency and regularized behavior centering upon
specific varieties of apparatus, (2) the patterns of social activity that
rationalized techniques imprint upon human relationships, and (3) the
shapes given everyday life by the large-scale organized networks of
technology. Far from any wild smashing, this would be a meticulous
process aimed at restoring significance to the question, What are we
about?

One step that might be taken, for example, is that groups and indi-
viduals would for a time, self-consciously and through advance agree-
ment, extricate themselves from selected techniques and apparatus.

bi

Autonomous Technology 332

This, we can expect, would create experiences of “withdrawal’’ much
like those that occur when an addict kicks a powerful drug. These ex-
periences must be observed carefully as prime data. The emerging
“needs,” habits, or discomforts should be noticed and thoroughly
analyzed. Upon this basis it should be possible to examine the structure
of the human relationships to the device in question. One may then
ask whether those relationships should be restored and what, if any,
new form those relationships should take. The participants would have
a genuine (and altogether rare) opportunity to ponder and make
choices about the place of that particular technology in their lives. Very
fruitful experiments of this sort could now be conducted with many
implements of our semiconscious technological existence, such as the
automobile, television, and telephone.

Other possiblities for Luddism as methodology can be found at vir-
tually any point in which social and political institutions depend upon
advanced technologies for their effective operation. Persons who, for
any reason, wish to alter or reform those institutions—the factory,
school, business, public agency—have an alternative open to them that
they have previously overlooked. As preparation for changes one may
later wish to make, one might try disconnecting crucial links in the
organized system for a time and studying the results. There is no getting
around the fact that the most likely consequences will be some variety
of chaos and confusion. But it is perhaps better to have this out in the
open rather than endure the subliminal chaos and confusion upon
which many of our most important institutions now rest. Again, these
symptoms must be taken as prime data. The effects of systematic dis-
connection must be taken as an opportunity to inquire, to learn, and
seek something better. What is the institution doing in the first place?
How does its technological structure relate to the ends one would wish
for it? Can one see anything more than to plug the whole back together
the way it was before? The Luddite step is necessary if such questions
are to be asked in any critical way. It is, perhaps, not too farfetched to
suppose that some positive innovations might result from this straight-
forward challenge to established patterns of institutional life.

Frankenstein’s Problem 333

By far the most significant of Luddite alternatives, however, requires
no direct action at all: the best experiments can be done simply by re-
fusing to repair technological systems as they break down. Many of
society’s biggest investments at present are those that merely prop up
failing technologies. This propping up is usually counted as “growth”
and placed in the plus column. We build more and more freeways,
larger and larger suburban developments, greater and greater systems of
centralized water supply, power, sewers, and police, all in a frantic
effort to sustain order and minimal comfort in the sprawling urban
complex. Perhaps a better alternative would be to let dying artifice die.
One might then begin the serious search, not for something super-
ficially “better”? but for totally new forms of sociotechnical existence.

Beyond these few words I have little more to say, for now. This
book has taken us on a long path to a conclusion that is actually a
beginning. What one does with a beginning is to begin. I realize full
well that many of these notions will be counted impractical. But that
is precisely the point. I have tried to show that the practical-technical
aspect of human activity has been almost totally removed from any
concerned and conscious care. Autonomous technology is the part of
our being that has been transferred, transformed, and separated from
living needs and creative intelligence. Any effort to reclaim this part of
human life must at first seem impractical and even absurd.

In this light, the suggestions at the end are not so much a call to
action as an attempt to speak to logical problems that arose during the
investigation. Given the power of these developments, what might pos-
sibly make a difference? My best answer at present is this: if the
phenomenon of technological politics is to be overcome, a truly politi-
cal technology must be put in its place. I have tried to give a few out-
lines of an experimental method that might encourage its birth.

In Mary Shelley’s novel, Victor Frankenstein is portrayed as a
“modern Prometheus.” The young man’s inevitable tragedy mirrors
an ancient story in which the combined elements of ambition, artifice,
pride, and power meet an unfortunate end.

Without doubt the most excellent of Promethean stories, however, is

Autonomous Technology 334

that written by Aeschylus 2,500 years ago. In Prometheus Bound we
find in luminous, mythical outline many of the themes we have encoun-
tered in this essay, for an interesting feature of Aeschylus’s treatment
of the legend is that it emphasizes the importance of technology in
Prometheus’s crime against the gods. The fall of man is in Aeschylus’s
view closely linked to the introduction of science and the arts and
crafts. Chained to a desolate rock for eternity, Prometheus describes his
plight.

Prometheus I caused mortals to cease foreseeing doom.

Chorus What cure did you provide them with against that sickness?
Prometheus I placed in them blind hopes.

Chorus That was a great gift you gave to men.

Prometheus Besides this, I gave them fire.

Chorus And do creatures of a day now possess bright-faced fire?
Prometheus Yes, and from it they shall learn many crafts.

Chorus These are the charges on which—

Prometheus Zeus tortures me and gives me no respite.37

The theft of fire, Aeschylus makes clear, was in its primary conse-
quence the theft of all technical skills and inventions later given to mor-
tals. “I hunted out the secret spring of fire,’ Prometheus exclaims,
“that filled the narthex stem, which when revealed became the teacher
of each craft to men, a great resource. This is the sin committed for
which I stand accountant, and I pay nailed in my chains under the open
sky.” 38 As the brash protagonist recounts the specific items he has
bestowed upon the human race, it becomes evident that Aeschylus’s
tale represents the movement of primitive man to civilized society.
“They did not know of building houses with bricks to face the sun;
know how to work in wood. They lived like swarming ants in holes in
the ground, in the sunless caves of the earth.” 39 The fire enabled man-
kind to develop agriculture, mathematics, astronomy, domesticated
animals, carriages, and a host of valuable techniques. But Prometheus
ends his proud description on a sorry note.

Frankenstein’s Problem 335

It was I and none other who discovered ships, the sail-driven wagons
that the sea buffets. Such were the contrivances that I discovered for
men— alas for me! For I myself am without contrivance to rid myself
of my present affliction [emphasis added] .40

Prometheus’s problem is something like our own. Modern people
have filled the world with the most remarkable array of contrivances
and innovations. If it now happens that these works cannot be funda-
mentally reconsidered and reconstructed, humankind faces a woefully
permanent bondage to the power of its own inventions. But if it is still
thinkable to dismantle, to learn and start again, there is a prospect of
liberation. Perhaps means can be found to rid the human world of our

self-made afflictions.

Notes

Note to Preface

1. F rom a speech by Mario Savio, Sit-in Rally, December 2, 1964, Berkeley,
California. Transcribed from “Is Freedom Academic?” a documentary of the
Free Speech Movement prepared by radio station KPFA.

Notes to Introduction

1. See Martin Brown, ed., The Social Responsibility of the Scientist (New York:
The Free Press, 1971); John T. Edsall, Scientific Freedom and Responsibility: A
Re port of the AAAS Committee on Scientific Freedom and Responsibility (Wash-
ington, D.C.: AAAS, 1975); Joel Primack and Frank von Hippel, Advice and
Dissent: Scientists in the Political Arena (New York: Basic Books, 1974).

2. See Organized Social Complexity: Challenge to Politics and Policy, ed. Todd R.
La Porte (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1975).

3. From the introduction by Allen Ginsberg to Timothy Leary’s Jail Notes (New
York: Douglas Books, 1971 ).

4. The slogan is usually attributed to Huey P. Newton.

5. Paul Goodman, The New Re formation: Notes of a Neolithic Conservative
(New York: Random House, 1970), p. 21.

6. Lewis Mumford, The Myth of the Machine: The Pentagon of Power (New
York: Harcourt Brace Jovanovich, 1970), chap. 13.

7. Ibid., p. 413.

8. Quoted in Hiram Haydn, The Counter-Renaissance (New York: Harcourt.
Brace, & World, 1950), p. 204. ;

9. The “values” discussion and its gestures toward relevance seldom arise above
the maudlin. See, for example, The New Technology and Human Values, ed.
John G. Burke (Belmont, California: Wadsworth Publishing Co., 1967).

10. Jacques Ellul, The Technological Societ: ilki
i y, trans. John Wilk: :
Alfred A. Knopf, 1964), p. xxv. : See ee

11. Ludwig Wittgenstein, Philosophical Investigations, trans. G. E. M. Anscombe
(New York: Macmillan, 1958), p. 3le.

Notes to Chapter 1

lL pias Heisenberg, Physics and Philosophy (New York: Harper & Row 1958)
p. 189. : :
2. John Kenneth Galbraith, The New Industrial State (New York: The New
American Library, 1968), p. 19.

3. René Dubos, So Human an Animal (New York: Scribners, 1968), p. 191. See
also Dubos’s Reason Awake (New York: Columbia University Press, 1970).

4. Dubos, So Human an Animal, pp. 231-232,

Notes 337
Chapter 1

5. Martin Heidegger, Discourse on Thinking, trans. John M. Anderson and E.
Hans Freund (New York: Harper & Row, 1966), p. 51.
6. Charles Reich, The Greening of America (New York: Random House, 1970),
p. 134.

7. Alvin Toffler, Future Shock (New York: Random House, 1970), p. 394.

8. Albert Speer, Inside the Third Reich, trans. Richard and Clara Winston (New
York: Macmillan, 1970), p. 521. .

9. Ibid.

10. Geoffrey Barraclough, ‘‘Hitler’s Master Builder,” New York Review of Books
15, no. 12, January 7, 1971, pp. 6-15. “What distinguished the Nazis was their
primitivism,” Barraclough comments, ‘not their modernity, and the tendency to
sheer away from this unpleasant fact and blame everything instead on technology
and the depersonalization of man is a typical piece of German double-think.”
(ibid., p. 14).

11. Jacques Ellul, The Technological Society, trans. John Wilkinson (New York:
Alfred A. Knopf, 1964), p. 14.

12. Bruno Bettelheim, The Informed Heart: Autonomy in a Mass Age (New
York: The Free Press, 1960).

13. Immanuel Kant, Critique o f Practical Reason, trans. Lewis White Beck (In-
dianapolis and New York: Bobbs-Merrill, 1956), pp. 33-34.

14. Ellul, Technological Society, p. 138.

15. B. F. Skinner, Beyond Freedom and Dignity (New York: Alfred A. Knopf,
1971), p. 205.

16. Ibid., p. 3.

17. Ibid., p. 24.

18. George Kateb, Utopia and Its Enemies (New York: The Free Press, 1963),

p. 109.

19. Ibid., p. 108.

20. Seymour Melman, Pentagon Capitalism: The Political Economy of War (New
York: McGraw-Hill, 1970), p. 12. Professor Melman’s comments are directed at
the views of nuclear physicist Ralph E. Lapp in The Weapons Culture (Baltimore:
Penguin Books, 1968), p. 19: ‘‘The United States has institutionalized its arms-
making to a point where there is grave doubt that it can control this far-flung
apparatus.”

21. See Ernst Nolte, Three Faces of Fascism, trans. Leila Vennewitz (New York:
New American Library, 1969), pp. 509-510, parts 4, 5; See also Fritz Stern, The
Politics of Cultural Despair (New York: Doubleday & Company, Anchor Books,
1965), introduction and pp. 1-22, 52-60, 151-177. Martin Heidegger was attracted
to nazism for a brief period, apparently under the belief that the movement

Notes 838

represented an “encounter between global technology and modern man.” See
Hannah Arendt’s “Martin Heidegger at Eighty,” New York Review of Books
18, no. 6, October 21, 1971, pp. 50-54.

22. E. J. Dijksterhuis, The Mechanization of the World Picture, trans. C. Dik-
shoorn (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1961), p. 74.

23. Aristotle, Politics, ed. and trans. Ernest Barker (New York: Oxford Univer-
sity Press, 1958), p. 10.

24. Francis Bacon, Novum Organum, in Selected Writings, ed. Hugh G. Dick
(New York: The Modern Library, 1955), p. 499.

25. Ibid., p. 537.

26. Ibid., pp. 537-539.

27. Ibid.

28. Ibid.

29. Ibid.

30. Geoffrey Chaucer, The Canterbury Tales, trans. Nevill Coghill (Baltimore:
Penguin Books, 1960), pp. 472-473, 477.

31. A. Rupert Hall, From Galileo to Newton: 1630-1720 (New York: Harper &
Row, 1963), p. 329.

32. T. K. Derry and Trevor I. Williams, A Short History of Technology (London:

Oxford University Press, 1970), pp. 702-703.
33. Aristotle, Metaphysics, trans. Richard Hope (Ann Arbor: The University of
Michigan Press, 1960), pp. 3-4.

34. Hannah Arendt, The Human Condition (New York: Doubleday & Company,
Anchor Books, 1959), pp. 197-206.

35. H. L. Nieburg, Jn the Name of Science (Chicago: Quadrangle, 1966), p. v.
36. See Richard R. Landers, Man’s Place in the Dybosphere (Englewood Cliffs:
Prentice-Hall, 1966), p. 207, ‘Technology in itself is neutral and should not be
labeled ‘good’ or ‘bad.’ It is the uses to which we put new scientific develop-
ments that enhance or degrade personal well being and prosperity.” See also

R. J. Forbes, The Conquest of Nature: Technology and Sts Consequences (New
York: New American Library, 1968), pp. 107-114.

37. Philip E. Slater, The Pursuit of Loneliness (Boston: Beacon Press, 1970),

pp. 12-13.

38. See Herbert L. Sussman, Victorians and the Machine: The Literary Response
to Technology (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1968).

39. Nathaniel Hawthome, “The Artist of the Beautiful,” in Selected Tales and
Sketches (New York: Holt, Rinehart and Winston, 1963), p. 259.

40. Ibid., p. 267.

Notes 339
Chapter 1

41. Edgar Allan Poe, ‘“‘MaelJzel’s Chess Player,” in The Complete Tales and Poems
of Edgar Allan Poe (New York: The Modern Library, 1938), p. 433.

42. Kurt Vonnegut, Jr., Player Piano (New York: Avon Books, 1967), p. 18.

43. Ibid., pp. 37-38.

44. Hawthorne, Selected Tales, p. 263.

45. Ibid., p. 264.

46. E. M. Forster, ‘The Machine Stops,” in Of Men and Machines, ed. Arthur O,
Lewis, Jr. (New York: E. P. Dutton, 1963), p. 266.

47. Ibid., p. 279.

48. Ibid., p. 263.

49. Ibid., p. 265.

50. Karl Marx, Capital, Vol. I, 3d ed., trans. Samuel Moore and Edward Aveling
(New York: The Modern Library, 1906), p. 416.

51. Ibid., pp. 461-462.

52. Ibid., p. 416.

53. Karl Marx, Economic and Philosophical Manuscripts, in Karl Marx: Early
Writings, trans. and ed. T. B. Bottomore (New York: McGraw-Hill, 1964), pp.
127-128.

54. Ibid., p. 127.

55. Karl Marx and Friedrich Engels, The German Ideology, parts I & Il, ed.
R. Pascal (New York: International Publishers, 1964), pp. 127-128.

56. Marx, Manuscripts, p. 122.

57. Ibid.

58. Marx, Capital, p. 462.

59. Marx and Engels, German Ideology, p. 22-23.

60. Ibid., p. 70.

61. Ibid., p. 67-68.

62. Karl Marx, Selected Writings in Sociology and Social Philosophy, trans.

T. B. Bottomore and ed. T. B. Bottomore and Maximilien Rubel (New York:
McGraw-Hill, 1964), p. 108.

63. See Karl Marx, Grendrisse: Foundations of the Critique of Political Econ-
omy, trans. Martin Nicolaus (Harmondsworth: Penguin Books, 1973), pp. 196-
197. Here Marx makes much the same argument with regard to money and
circulation as he does elsewhere in considering the dialectic of men and ma-
chines: “‘The social relation of individuals to one another as a power over the
individuals which has become autonomous, whether conceived as a natural force,

Notes 340

as chance or in whatever other form, is a necessary result of the fact that the
point of departure is not the free social individual.”

64. Marx, Capital, pp. 462-463.

65. Ibid., p. 462.

66. Marx, Manuscripts, p. 130.

67. Jacques Ellul, La Technique ou l’enjeu du siécle (Paris: Librairie Armand
Colin, 1954).

Notes to Chapter 2

1. Henry Adams, The Education of Henry Adams (New York: The Modern Li-
brary, 1931), p. 380.

2. Ibid.

3. Quoted in Leo Marx’s The Machine in the Garden: Technology and the Pas-
toral Ideal in America (New York: Oxford University Press, 1964), p. 350.

4. For an excellent analysis of the computer as a metaphor of this kind, see
Joseph Weizenbaum, Computer Power and Human Reason: From Judgment to
Calculation (San Francisco: W. H. Freeman and Company, 1976).

5. Reinhard Bendix attempts to distinguish between the major terms used to
categorize this historical movement in his Nation-Building and Citizenship:
Studies of our Changing Social Order (Garden City: Doubleday & Company,
Anchor Books, 1969), pp. 1-18.

6. Walt Whitman Rostow, Politics and the Stages of Growth (New. York, Cam-
bridge University Press, 1971), p. 56.

7. Ibid., p. 3.

8. Wilbert E. Moore, Social Change (Englewood Cliffs: Prentice-Hall, 1963),

p. 89,

9. Jacques Ellul, The Technological Society, trans. John Wilkinson (New York:
Alfred A. Knopf, 1964), p. 134.

10. Adams, Education, p. 490.

11. Ibid., p. 493.

12. Roderick Seidenberg, Post-Historic Man (Boston: Beacon Press, 1957),
pp. 234-235. See also Norbert Wiener, The Human Use o f Human Beings: Cyber-
netics and Society (New York: Avon Books, 1967), pp. 20-21.

13. David S. Landes, The Unbound Prometheus: Technological Change and
Industrial Development in Western Europe from 1750 to the Present (Cambridge:
Cambridge University Press, 1969), p. 3.

14. C. E. Black, The Dynamics of Modernization: A Study in Comparative His-
tory (New York: Harper & Row, 1967), p. 7.

Notes 341
Chapter 2

15. Clark Kerr, Industrialism and Industrial Man (New York: Oxford University
Press, Galaxy Books, 1964), p. 15.

16. Ibid.

17. Ibid., p. 17.

18. David E. Apter, The Politics of Modernization (Chicago: University of Chicago
Press, 1965), p. 1.

19. Myron Weiner, ed., Modernization: The Dynamics of Growth (New York:
Basic Books, 1966), p. 2.

20. Ibid., p. v.

21. For an assessment of the attitudes of different social classes toward the
industrial revolution see Landes, Unbound Prometheus, pp. 121-123.

22. Victor C. Ferkiss, Technological Man: The Myth and the Reality (New York:
George Braziller, 1969), p. 87.

23. There are any number of books that show the aspect of technical and scien-
tific change influenced by human personality and individual idiosyncrasy. See,
for example, William Rodgers, Think: A Biography of the Watsons and IBM
(New York: New American Library, 1969), and James D. Watson, The Double
Helix (New York: New American Library, 1969), especially the touching passage
on p. 104 in which Watson and Francis Crick drink a toast to the failure of their
rival, Linus Pauling.

24. Kerr, Industrialism, pp. 221-223.

25. Apter, Politics, pp. 3, 10.

26. Rostow, Politics, p. 176.

27. Ibid.

28. Ibid., p. 177.

29. Ellul, Technological Society.

30. Karl Marx, Capital, Vol. I, 3d ed., trans. Samuel Moore and Edward Aveling
(New York: The Modern Library, 1906), p. 406.
31. Ellul, Technological Society, p. 134.

32. Ibid., p. 85.

33. Ibid., p. 78.

34. See Richard R. Landers, Man’s Place in the Dybosphere (Englewood Cliffs:
Prentice-Hall, 1966), p. 243, for a wonderful example of this kind of thinking:
“Objectively,”’ Landers confesses, “I cannot help feeling that, relatively, man is
declining and machines are growing. Not in the sense that machines are ‘taking
over’ in a robot uprising, but in the sense that while man may only be around
for one million years more, machines may be around for two million years.”

Notes 342

35. Arthur C. Clarke, Profiles of the Future (New York: Bantam Books, 1964),
pp. 212-227.

36. Ellul, Technological Society, p. 85.
37. Ibid., pp. 7-10.

38. Ibid., p. 86.

39. Ibid.

40. Ibid.

41. Ibid.

42. Ibid., p. 87.

43. Ibid.

44. Ibid., p. 91.

45. Ibid., p. 87.

46. Ibid., p. 90.

47. Ibid.

48. Ibid.

49. Ibid., p. 93..

50. Emile Durkheim, The Rules of Sociological Method, 8th ed., trans. Sarah A.
Solovay and John H. Mueller and ed. George E. G. Catlin (New York: The Free

Press, 1964), p. 103.
51. Ellul, Technological Society, p. xxviii.
52. Ibid.

53. Alvin W. Gouldner, The Coming Crisis of Western Sociology (New York:
Basic Books, 1970), p. 52.

54. Ellul, Technological Society, pp. 92-93.

55. For agood discussion of the viewpoints of Karl Popper and Thomas Kuhn
on the history of science, see Criticism and the Growth of Knowledge, edited by

Imre Lakatos and Alan Musgrave (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1970).

See also, Thomas Kuhn’s The Structure o f Scientific Revolutions, 2d ed. (Chi-
cago: University of Chicago Press, 1970).

56. See Donald A. Schon, Technology and Change (New York: Delacorte Press,
1967).

57. Donald A. Schon, Beyond the Stable State (New York: Random House,
1971), p. 24.

58. George Kubler, The Shape of Time: Remarks on the History of Things (New
Haven: Yale University Press, 1962), p. 7.

Notes 343
Chapter 2

59. A. L. Kroeber, Anthropology: Culture Patterns and Processes (New York:
Harbinger Press, 1963), p. 150.

60. Ibid., pp. 172-173.

61. Ibid.

62. Durkheim, Rules, p. 28.

63. Ibid., p. 110.

64. Werner Heisenberg, Physics and Beyond, trans. Arnold J. Pomerans (New
York: Harper & Row, 1971), p. 193.

65. Ibid.

66. Ibid., p. 194.

67. Ibid.

68. Ibid., p. 195.

69. Ibid.

70. By its very nature, of course, evidence of actual suppression of scientific or
technical work for reasons of conscience might never become known. I have
encountered scientists who claimed to have stopped lines of research that they
feared might have pernicious military applications. And perhaps there exists
something like an anonymous history of technical paths that, through prudence,
were not taken.

71. Heisenberg, Physics, p. 195.

72. Norbert Wiener, Cybernetics (Cambridge, Mass.: The MIT Press, 1965), pp. 28-
29.

73. Kubler, Shape of Time, p. 36.

74. From In the Matter of J. Robert Oppenheimer: Transcript of Hearing before
Personnel Security Board and Texts of Principal Documents and Letters (Cam-
bridge, Mass.: The MIT Press, 1971), p. 251.

75. Benjamin Farrington, Greek Science (Baltimore: Penguin Books, 1961),

p. 303.

76. See, for example, Herman Kahn and Anthony J. Wiener, The Year 2000:

A Framework for Speculation (New York: Macmillan, 1967); Dennis Gabor,
Inventing the Future (New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 1964); Daniel Bell, ‘‘The
Year 2000: The Trajectory of an Idea,” Daedalus 96 (1967), pp. 639-651.

77. Robert Theobald, ‘“‘Cybernetics and the Problems of Social Reorganiza-
tion,” in The Social Impact of Cybernetics, ed. Charles R. Dechert (New York:
Simon & Schuster, 1966), p. 39.

78. See the definitions given in The American Herttage Dictionary of the English
Language (Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 1970).

Notes 344

79. Leslie White, The Science of Culture (New York: Farrar, Straus & Giroux,
1949), p. 366.

80. Emmanuel G. Mesthene, Technological Change: Its Impact on Manand
Society (New York: New American Library, 1970), p. 20.

81. Bendix in Nation-Building criticizes Thorstein Veblen’s “technological de-
terminism” and proceeds to develop what he holds to be a more balanced view
of social change.

82. Lynn White, Medieval Technology and Social Change (New York: Oxford
University Press, 1966), p. 28.

83. See William F. Ogburn, Social Change (New York: Huebsch, 1922), and
William F. Ogburn and M. F. Nimkoff, Technology and the Changing Family
(Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 1955).

84. Karl Marx, Selected Writings in Sociology and Social Philosophy, trans.

T. B. Bottomore and ed. T. B. Bottomore and Maximilien Rubel (New York:
McGraw-Hill, 1964), p. 64.

85. Karl Marx and Friedrich Engels, The German Ideology, parts 1 and 2, ed. R.
Pascal (New York: International Publishers, 1964), p. 7.

86. Marx, Selected Writings, p. 57.

87. The richness of Marx’s view of the range of influences that affect forms of
social life is particularly evident in his discussion of precapitalist societies. Here he
acknowledges the role of kinship, religion, and other factors while, of course,
emphasizing relations of property. See his Grundrisse: Foundations of the
Critique of Political Economy (Harmondsworth: Penguin Books, 1973), pp.
471-514,

88. Marx and Engels, German Ideology, p. 18.

89. Karl Marx, Poverty of Philosophy (New York: International Publishers, 1963),
p. 109.

90. Ibid., p. 63.

91. Ibid., p. 122.

92. Marx and Engels, German Ideology, p. 8.

93. Marx, Poverty of Philosophy, p. 139.

94. Georg Lukdcs, History and Class Consciousness: Studies in Marxist Dialec-
tics, trans. Rodney Livingstone (Cambridge, Mass.: The MIT Press, 1971).

95. Marx, Poverty of Philosophy, pp. 181-182.

96. Marx and Engels, German Ideology, p. 22.

97. See Friedrich Engels, Anti-Diihring, trans. Emile Burns and ed. C. P. Dutt
(New York: International Publishers, 1939), and Friedrich Engels, Dialectics of
Nature, trans. and ed. Clemens Dutt (New York: International Publishers, 1940).

Notes 345
Chapter 2

98. Marx, Selected Writings, p. 63.

99. Marx, Poverty of Philosophy, p. 181.

100. Ibid., p. 141.

101. Karl Marx, Grundrisse, ed. and trans. David McLellan (New York: Harper
& Row, 1971), p. 125.

102. Ibid., pp. 94-95.

103. See Marx and Engels, German Ideology, p. 17. Shlomo Avineri’s study of
Marx’s thought points to the idea of an infinity of human needs expressed in
Marx’s argument. The Social and Political Thought of Karl Marx (Cambridge:
Cambridge University Press, 1970), pp. 80-82.

104. Marx, Capital, p. 399.

105. PerttiJ. Pelto, The Snowmobile Revolution: Technology and Social Change
in the Arctic (Menlo Park, California: Cummings Publishing Co., 1973).

106. Ibid., pp. 178-179.

107. Ferkiss, Technological Man, p. 272.

108. Ibid., p. 246.

109. Robert L. Heilbroner, Between Capitalism and Socialism (New York:
Vintage, 1970), p. 163, emphasis deleted.

110. Of course there are “‘winners”’ as well, but as shall be evident, their success
is actually assumed and need not be anticipated or foreseen through any extraor-
dinary means.

111. Technology: Processes of Assessment and Choice: National Academy of
Sciences, Committee on Science and Astronautics, U.S. House of Representatives
(Washington, D.C.: Government Printing Office, 1969), pp. 74-77. See also

A Study of Technology Assessment, Report of the Committee on Public Engin-
eering Policy, National Academy of Engineering, Committee on Science and
Astronautics, U.S. House of Representatives (Washington, D.C.: Government
Printing Office, 1969). My views of the assessment business are found in “On
Criticizing Technology,” Public Policy 20 (Winter 1972): 35-59.

113. From Greek Lyrics, 2d. ed., trans. Richmond Lattimore (Chicago: Univer-
sity of Chicago Press, 1960), p. 20.

114. Niccolé Machiavelli, The Prince, trans. Luigi Ricci (New York: New Ameri-
American Library, 1952), p. 120.

115. Marcus Aurelius, Meditations (Chicago: Henry Regnery, 1956), p. 79.

116. Jean-Paul Sartre, Search for a Method, trans. Hazel E. Barnes (New York:
Alfred A. Knopf, 1963), p. 47.

117. Hannah Arendt, The Human Condition (Chicago: University of Chicago
Press, 1958), p. 190.

Notes 346

118. Ibid.

119. Ibid., pp. 323-324.

120. Ibid., pp. 231-232.

121. Friedrich Nietzsche, The Will to Power, trans. Walter Kaufmann and R. J.

Hollingdale and ed. Walter Kaufmann (New York: Random House, 1967), p. 164.

122. Arendt, Human Condition, p. 233.

123. See, for example, Robert Alex Baron’s The Tyranny of Noise (New York:
Harper & Row, 1971).

124. National Academy of Sciences, Technology, p. 15.
125. Ibid., p. 11.

126. Ayn Rand, The New Left: The Anti-Industrial Revolution (New York:
New American Library, 1971), p. 131.

127. James D. Thompson, Organizations in Action (New York: McGraw-Hill,
1967), p. 14.

128. Ibid., p. 40.

129. Ellul, Technological Society, pp. 94-133.

130. Landes, Unbound Prometheus, p. 3.

131. Ibid., p. 546.

132. Ibid., p. 2.

133. Rostow, Politics and the Stages of Growth, p. 58.
134. Ibid., pp. 58-59.

135. Landes, Unbound Prometheus, chap. 3.

136. John Kenneth Galbraith, The New Industrial State (New York: New Ameri-
can Library, 1968), chap. 2.
137. Ellul, Technological Society, p. 125.

Notes to Chapter 3

1. See, for example, Edward O. Wilson, Sociobiology: The New Synthesis (Cam-
bridge, Mass: Harvard University Press, 1975).

2. Lewis Mumford, The Myth of the Machine: The Pentagon of Power (New
York: Harcourt Brace Jovanovich 1970), p. 155.

3. Lewis Mumford, The Transformations of Man (New York: Harper & Row,
1956).

4. Lewis Mumford, The Myth ofthe Machine: Technics and Human Develop-
ment (New York: Harcourt, Brace and World, 1967).

5. Barnett Newman, “The First Man Was an Artist,” The Tiger’s Eye 1 (October,
1947), p. 59.

Notes 347
Chapter 3

6. Ibid.

7. Ibid.

8. See Sherwood L. Washburn, ‘‘Tools and Human Evolution,” in Scientific
Technology and Social Change, ed. Gene I. Rochlin (San Francisco: W. H.
Freeman and Company, 1974), pp. 11-23.

9. Newman, “First Man,” p. 59.

10. Hannah Arendt, The Human Condition (Chicago: University of Chicago Press,
1958), pp. 9-10.

11. Lynn White, Jr., “The Historical Roots of Our Ecologic Crisis,” in Philosophy
and Technology: Readings in the Philosophical Problems of Technology, ed.

Carl Mitcham and Robert Mackey (New York: The Free Press, 1972), p. 260.

12. Max Weber, The Protestant Ethic and the Spirit of Capitalism, trans. Talcott
Parsons (New York: Charles Scribner’s Sons, 1930). For another view of this
issue see Robert K. Merton, Science, Technology and Society in Seventeenth-
Century England (New York: Harper & Row, 1970). Merton’s bibliography lists
works published on this topic up to 1970. See also Bibliography of the Philoso-
phy of Technology, comp. Carl Mitcham and Robert Mackey (Chicago: Uni-
versity of Chicago Press, 1973), pp. 123-141.

13. White, ‘‘Historical Roots,” p. 264.
14. Ibid., p. 261.

15. Ibid., pp. 262-263.

16. Ibid., pp. 262-263.

17. Genesis 1:28.

18. Matthew 5:5.

19. See David S. Landes, The Unbound Prometheus: Technological Change and
Industrial Development in Western Europe from 1750 to the Present (Cambridge:
Cambridge University Press, 1969), pp. 21-25. Landes weighs a range of cultural
sources for European attitudes toward science and industry. He concludes that
“the urge to mastery grew with time and fed on success, for every achievement
was justification for the pretention; while the moral force of the Church’s oppo-
sition waned with its temporal power and its own insecurity in the face of a
triumphant materialism.”

20. John Passmore, Man’s Responsibility for Nature: Ecological Problems and
Western Traditions (London: Duckworth, 1974), ix.

21. Genesis 1:25.

22. Passmore, Man’s Responsibility, p. 12.

23. Ibid., p. 20.

24. Max Horkheimer, Eclipse of Reason (New York: Seabury Press, 1974), p. 21.

Notes 348

25. Ibid., p. 176. For an analysis of the role that the domination-of-nature thesis
played in the development of the thinking of the Frankfurt school, see Martin
Jay, The Dialectical Imagination: A History of the Frankfurt School and the
Institute of Social Research, 1923-1950 (Boston: Little, Brown, 1973), chap. 8.

26. Max Horkheimer and Theodor W. Adorno, Dialectic of Enlightenment,
trans. John Cumming (London: Allen Lane, 1973), pp. 43-80.

27. In the context of the present inquiry I shall not be able to consider the range
of positions taken by Adorno, Horkheimer, and others of the Frankfurt school
on questions of nature, technology, and domination. However, insofar as their
writings involve a search for ultimate origins of a pathological condition in Wes-
tern civilization’s dealing with nature, their work is subject to many of the criti-
cismsI have raised with regard to White and Passmore.

28. Jacques Ellul, The Technological Society, trans. John Wilkinson (New York:
Alfred A. Knopf, 1964), p. 146.

29. Ibid., p. xxix.
30. Ibid.

31. Ibid., p. 66.
32. Ibid., p. 29.
33. Ibid., p. 29.
34. Ibid.

35. Ibid.

36. Ibid., p. 34.
37. Ibid., p. 35.
38. Ibid., p. 37.
39. Ibid.

40. Lewis Mumford, Technics and Civilization (New York: Harcourt, Brace &
World, 1963), pp. 242-249 and Chaps. I, III and IV.

41. Plato, Gorgias, trans. W. C. Helmbold (New York: Bobbs-Merrill Co., 1952),
p. 97.

42. See Friedrich Klemm, A History of Western Technology, trans. Dorothea
Waley Singer (Cambridge, Mass: The MIT Press, 1964), pp. 153-159.

43. Ellul, Technological Society, pp. 41-42.
44. Ibid., p. 41.
45. Ibid., p. 48.

46. See Ellul’s Presence of the Kingdom (New York: Seabury Press, 1967). In
a chapter entitled ‘The Christian in the World,” he says (p. 16), ““We have no right
to accustom ourselves to this world, nor to hide it from ourselves with Christian

Notes 349
Chapter 3

illusions. Living in the world we are living in the domain of the Prince of this
world, of Satan, and all around us we constantly see the action of this Prince,

and the result of the state of sin in which we are all placed without exception,
because in spite of all our efforts and our piety we share in the sin of the world.”
As one compares Ellul’s sociological and theological writings, it becomes clear
that, in his eyes, sin and la technique are virtual equivalents. Technology is Satan’s
modern variety of temptation, his way of claiming the soul of thoroughly secular-
ized men. What, after all, could be a greater temptation than the promise of total
effectiveness and efficiency in all one’s worldly affairs?

47. Ellul, Technological Society, p. 51-52.
48. Ibid., p. 43.
49. Ibid.

50. Ellul says the following about his early intellectual development: “I was not
brought up in an especially Christian family, and had only a very remote knowl-
edge of Christianity in my childhood. On the other hand, my family was rather
poor and I spent all my youth in the midst of the people of the docks at Bor-
deaux. I began to earn my own living when I was sixteen and continued to do so
while completing my university studies. When I was nineteen, I read, by chance,
Marx’s Capital. I was enthusiastic about it. It answered all the questions that I
had been asking myself. I became ‘Marxist’ and devoted a great deal of my time to
a study of his writings. But I was disappointed with the Communists, who seemed
to me to be very far from Marx, and I never entered the Party. Around twenty-
two years of age, I was also reading the Bible, and it happened that I was converted
with a certain ‘brutality’!

“From that time on, the great problem for me was to know if I could be
Marxist and Christian. On the philosophical plane, I realized very quickly that
I could not, and so chose decisively for faith in Jesus Christ. But what Marx had
brought to me was a certain way of ‘seeing’ the political, economic and social
problems—a method of interpretation, a sociology. So it did not seem impos-
sible to utilize this, starting with the Christian faith. I could not accept the
view that there should be a Christian faith without social and political consequen-
ces. On the other hand, however, I saw clearly that one could not deduce directly
from the Biblical texts political or social consequences valid for our epoch. It
seemed to me that the method of Karl Marx (but not of the Communists!) was
superior to all that I had encountered elsewhere.” (James Y. Holloway, ed.,
Introducing Jacques Ellul [Grand Rapids, Mich.: Eerdmans Publishing Company,
1970], p. 5).
51. Ellul, Technological Society, pp. 54-55, 222.

52. Louis Hartz, The Liberal Tradition in America (New York: Harcourt, Brace
& World, 1955).

53. Ibid., p. 128.

Notes 350

54. The text of Lord Byron’s speech to the House of Lords can be found in
Arthur O. Lewis, Jr., ed., Of Men and Machines (New York: E.P. Dutton, 1963),
pp. 198-204.

55. Ellul, Technological Society, p. 19.

56. Wylie Sypher, Literature and Technology: The Alien Vision (New York:
Random House, Vintage Books, 1971), p. xvi.

57. See Edmund Husserl, Phenomenology and the Crisis of Philosophy, trans.
Quentin Lauer (New York: Harper Torchbooks, 1965); Martin Heidegger, What
Is Called Thinking?, trans. Fred D. Wieck and J. Glenn Gray (New York: Harper
& Row, 1968), and ‘‘Die Frage nach der Technik,” in Vortrage und Aufsdatze
(Pfullingen: Neske, 1954); Max Scheler, Die Wissenformen und die Gesellschaft,
in Gesammelte Werke, Band 8, 2d ed. (Bern: Francke Verlag, 1960).

58. Ellul, Technological Society, p. 428.
59. Heidegger, What is Called Thinking?, p. 235.

60. White, ‘‘Historical Roots,” pp. 264. See also Passmore’s recommendations
in chap. 7, ‘Removing the Rubbish,” of Man’s Responsibility.

61. William Leiss, The Domination of Nature (Boston: Beacon Press, 1974),
p. 193.

Notes to Chapter 4

1. Francis Bacon, New Atlantis, in Selected Writings of Francis Bacon, ed. Hugh
G. Dick (New York: The Modern Library, 1955), p. 554.

2. Ibid., P. 574.
3. Ibid., P. 561.
4. Ibid., p. 583.
5. Ibid., p. 567.
6. Ibid., p. 549.
7. Ibid., p. 584.
8. Ibid., p. 573.
9. Ibid., p. 572.

10. Lewis Mumford argues this point in his discussion of Bacon in The Myth of
the Machine: The Pentagon of Power (New York: Harcourt Brace Jovanovich,
1970), p. 106. Mumford, p. 166, traces the birth of ‘‘the Power Complex: a new
constellation of forces, interests, and motives which eventually resurrected the
ancient megamachine, and gave it a more perfect technological structure, capable
of planetary and even interplanetary extension,” back to the Baconian model. He
gives much less emphasis to a person equally important in the founding of the
successful world view of modern science and technology, Isaac Newton. For an

Notes 351
Chapter 4

interesting discussion of Newton’s role in the politics of knowledge of the Royal
Society, see Frank E. Manuel, “Newton as Autocrat of Science,” Daedalus, vol.
97, no. 3 (Summer 1968): 969-1001.

11. For example, Spencer Klaw, The New Brahmins: Scientific Life in America
(New York: Apollo Books, 1969).

12. For a fruitful contrast to technocratic notions of power and authority, see
Hannah Arendt’s On Violence (New York: Harcourt, Brace & World, 1970),

pp. 35-56, and Between Past and Future (New York: The Viking Press, 1968),
chap. 3.

13. Henri de Saint-Simon, Social Organization, the Science of Man and Other
Writings, ed. and trans. Felix Markham (New York: Harper & Row, 1964), p. 78.

14, For asummary of such plans in the context of Saint-Simon’s life and phil-
osophy, see Frank E. Manuel’s The New World of Henri Saint-Simon (Notre
Dame, Indiana: University of Notre Dame Press, 1963), chaps. 24-27.

15. Saint-Simon, Social Organization, p. 6.

16. An excellent review of Wells’s science fiction is given in Herbert L. Sussman’s
Victorians and the Machine: The Literary Response to Technology (Cambridge,
Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1968), chap. 6.

17. H. G. Wells, When the Sleeper Wakes, in Three Prophetic Novels (New York:
Dover Publications, 1960).

18. H. G. Wells, A Modern Utopia (Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press, 1967).

19. F. W. Taylor, The Principles o f Scientific Management (New York: Harper
& Row, 1947).

20. See Robert Boguslaw, The New Utopians: A Study of System Design and
Social Change (Englewood Cliffs: Prentice-Hall, 1965), and Daniel Bell, The
Coming of Post-Industrial Society: A Venture in Social Forecasting (New York:
Basic Books, 1973).

21. Saint-Simon, Social Organization, p. 60.

-22. Thorstein Veblen, The Engineers and the Price System (New York: The Vik-
ing Press, 1954), p. 40.

23. Ibid.

24. Ibid., p. 39.
25. Ibid., p. 54.
26. Ibid., p. 52.

27. Thorstein Veblen, The Portable Veblen, ed. Max Lerner (New York: The Vik-
ing Press, 1948), p. 443.

28. Veblen, The Engineers, p. 57.

Notes 352

29. Oswald Spengler, The Decline ofthe West, trans. Charles Francis Atkinson
(New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 1928), 2:504.

30. Ibid.
31. Ibid., pp. 504-505.

32. Oswald Spengler, Man and Technics, trans. Charles Francis Atkinson (New
York: Alfred A. Knopf, 1932), p. 63. Spengler’s ideas on technocracy are mixed
with an unashamed racism. He predicted a battle of the “coloured” peoples
(including the Russians) against the white peoples of the world. “Even on the
present scale our technical processes and installations, if they are to be main-
tained, require, let us say a hundred thousand outstanding brains, as organizers
and discoverers and engineers. These must be strong—nay, even creative—talents,
enthusiasts for their work, and formed for it by a steeling of years’ duration at
great expense. Actually, it is just this calling that has for the last fifty years irre-
sistibly attracted the strongest and ablest of white youth” (ibid., p. 96).

33. Ibid., pp. 96-97, 102-103.

34. See Vilfredo Pareto, The Mind and Society (London: Jonathan Cape, 1935);
Gaetano Mosca, The Ruling Class (New York: McGraw-Hill, 1939); Robert
Michels, Political Parties (Glencoe: The Free Press, 1949); C. Wright Mills, The
Power Elite (New York: Oxford University Press, 1956); Floyd Hunter, Com-
munity Power Structure (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1953);
G. William Domhoff, Who Rules America? (Englewood Cliffs: Prentice-Hall,
1967). ;

35. Quoted by T. B. Bottomore, Elites and Society (Baltimore: Penguin Books,
1966), p. 8.

36. Quoted by Seymour Melman in Pentagon Capitalism (New York: McGraw-
Hill, 1970), p. 238. See also appendix A, pp. 231-234, for an Eisenhower memo-
randum of 1946 that expresses a much different sentiment. “Scientists and
industrialists are more likely to make new and unsuspected contributions to the
development of the Army if detailed directions are held to a minimum.”

37. Jean Meynaud looks for technocracy among the ranks of the ‘“‘technologists.”
“The most commonly accepted view of a technologist is of a specialist who, by
training or experience, has a thorough knowledge of a particular field or subject.’
Jean Meynaud, Technocracy, trans. Paul Barnes (New York: The Free Press,
1964). “Technologists are,”” Meynaud observes, ‘“‘potential technocrats—the
extent of their ultimate powers of intervention depends especially on their
professional status” (ibid., p. 29). Meynaud distinguished between technocrats
and bureaucrats and between various possible kinds of technocracy. The con-
ceptual categories he develops, however, are neither incorrect nor particularly
useful.

38. There is a large and growing literature on the role of scientists and technically
trained experts in American government. See, for example, A. Hunter Dupree,

Notes 353
Chapter 4

Science in the Federal Government (Cambridge, Mass.: Belknap Press, 1957);
Daniel S. Greenberg, The Politics of Pure Science (New York: New American
Library, 1968); Eugene B. Skolnikoff, Science, Technology and American Foreign
Policy (Cambridge, Mass.: The MIT Press, 1967).

39. DonK. Price, The Scientific Estate (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University
Press, 1965).

40. Victor C. Ferkiss, Technological Man: The Myth and the Reality (New York:
George Braziller, 1969), p. 175.

41. Meynaud, Technocracy, p. 296.

42. Henry Elsner, Jr., The Technocrats: Prophets of Automation (Syracuse:
Syracuse University Press, 1967).

43. Ludwig Wittgenstein, Philosophical Investigations, trans. G. E.M. Anscombe
(New York: Macmillan, 1953), p. 48e, section no. 115. ‘‘A picture held us captive.
And we could not get outside it, for it lay in our language and language seemed to
repeat it to us inexorably.”

44. Domhoff, Who Rulés America? argues that there is a ‘‘national upper class,”
the ‘“‘ ‘American business aristocracy.’ ” While it ‘‘does not control every aspect of
American political life,” its influence is “sufficient to earn it the designation ‘gov-
erning class’ ” (ibid., pp. 137, 156). The diversity and dispersion of activities by
this class is, Domhoff holds, given unity by the common values, attitudes, and
experiences of the class. It is interesting to note that Domhoff argues against the
notion that “experts from the middle class have somehow displaced the Ameri-
can upper class as a governing class”’ (ibid., pp. 149-150). The experts are still
chosen by the business aristocracy and take their orders accordingly.

45. Price, Scientific Estate, p. 17.
46. Ibid., p. 15.
47. Ibid., p. 36.
48. Ibid., p. 77.
49. Ibid., p. 55.
50. Ibid., p. 56.

51. Robert L. Heilbroner, The Limits of American Capitalism (New York: Harper
& Row, 1966), pp. 65-134; Daniel Bell, ‘‘Notes on the Post-Industrial Society,”
in The Technological Threat, ed. Jack D. Douglas (Englewood Cliffs: Prentice-
Hall, 1971), pp. 8-20. In Bell’s words, p. 10, ‘To speak rashly: if the dominant
figures of the past hundred years have been the entrepreneur, the businessman,
and the industrial executive, the ‘new men’ are the. scientists, the mathematicians,
the economists, and the engineers of the new computer technology. And the
dominant institutions of the new society—in the sense that they will provide the
most creative challenges and enlist the richest talents—will be the intellectual
institutions.”

Notes 354

52. Price, Scientific Estate, p. 68.

53. Ibid., pp. 133-134.

54. Ibid., p. 133.

55. Ibid., p. 135.

56. Ibid.

57. Ibid., p. 137.

58. Bernard Crick, The American Science of Politics (Berkeley and Los ea
University of California Press, 1959), chaps. 11-12.
59. Price, Scientific Estate, pp. 147-148.

60. Ibid., pp. 148-149.

61. Ibid., pp. 204-207.

62. Price’s mention of “faceless technocrats” appears in a quotation from Senator
E. L. Bartlett of Alaska. Price summarizes the misapprehension here as follows:
“But now that great issues turn on new scientific discoveries far too complicated
for politicians to comprehend, many people doubt that representative institutions
can still do their job. The fear that the new powers created by science may be
beyond the control of constitutional processes, and that scientists may become

a new governing clique or cabal of secret advisers, has begun to seem plausible”
(ibid., p. 57). For a lively discussion of these matters from a British scholar,

see Nigel Calder’s Technopolis: Social Control of the Uses of Science (New

York: Simon and Schuster, 1970).

63. Price, Scientific Estate, p. 153. Compare to The Federalist, No. 10, by James
Madison in Alexander Hamilton, James Madison, and John Jay, The Federalist
Papers, ed. Clinton Rossiter (New York: New American Library, 1961), pp.
77-84.

64. Price, Scientific Estate, chap. 3.
65. Ibid., p. 213.

66. Ibid., pp. 214-215.

67. Ibid., p. 121.

68. Ibid., p. 191.

69.SeeH. L. Nieburg, In the Name of Science (Chicago: Quadrangle, 1966);
Melman, Pentagon Capitalism; Ralph E. Lapp, The Weapons Culture (Baltimore:
Penguin Books, 1969); Richard Barnett, The Economy of Death (New York:
Atheneum Publishers, 1969).

70. Nieburg, Name of Science, p. 198.
71. Ibid., p. 381.
72. Ibid., p. 187.

Notes 355
Chapter 5

73. Price, Scientific Estate, p. 162.
74. Ibid.
75. Ibid., p. 45.

76. John Kenneth Galbraith, The New Industrial State (New York: New Ameri-
can Library, 1968), p. 82.

77. Ibid.

78. Ibid., chap. 2.

79. Ibid., p. 28.

80. Ibid., chap. 15.

81. Ibid., p. 315.

82. Ibid., p. 304.

83. Ibid., Chaps. 27, 29.

84. John Kenneth Galbraith, Economics and the Public Purpose (New York:
New American Library, 1975).

85. Ibid., p. 405.

86. Ibid., pp. 400-401.

87. Galbraith, Economics, p. 215.

88. Galbraith, New Industrial State, p. 388.
89. Ibid., p. 392.

90. Ibid., p. 406.

91. Ibid., p. 301.

92. Ibid.

93. Ibid., p. 400.

94. Ibid., p. 406.

95. James Burnham, The Managerial Revolution (Bloomington: Indiana University
Press, 1966), p. 101.

96. Galbraith, Economics, p. 292.

Notes to Chapter 5

1. Herbert Marcuse, One-Dimensional Man: Studies in the Ideology of Advanced
Industrial Society (Boston: Beacon Press, 1964), p. 18.

2. See Sheldon S. Wolin’s discussion in Politics and Vision (Boston: Little, Brown,
1960), p. 378; Henri de Saint-Simon, Social Organization, the Science of Man and
Other Writings, ed. and trans. Felix Markham (New York, Harper & Row, 1964);
Frank E. Manuel, The New World o f Henri Saint-Simon (Notre Dame, Ind.:
University of Notre Dame Press, 1963), chap. 27.

Notes 356

3. Writings that might be included in this tradition now include literally dozens
of titles. The books I consider most important will be cited in specific footnotes.
For the most complete bibliography of sources, consult Carl Mitcham and Robert
Mackey, Bibliography of the Philosophy of Technology (Chicago: University of
Chicago Press, 1973). It is not possible for me to acknowledge everything I have
learned or been brought to think about through my readings of Ellul, Marcuse,
Giedion, Mumford, Habermas, and others. If I have not seen farther, it is because
there are giants standing on my shoulders,

4. A survey and critique of the penchant for naming the society is given in Henri
Lefebvre’s The Sociology of Marx (New York: Random House, 1968), pp. 192-
197.

5. Examples of this tendency to use warnings as promotion can be found in Alvin
Toffler, Future Shock (New York: Random House, 1970), and in Marshall
McLuhan and Quentin Fiore, The Medium Is the Massage (New York: Bantam
Books, 1967). For a while, the media and technology emphasis became an impor
tant theme in the public relations of many image-conscious American corpora-
tions. See Don Fabun’s Dynamics of Change (Englewood Cliffs: Prentice-Hall,
1967), originally written as promotion for Kaiser Aluminum.

6. Some interesting examples of artistic critiques of technological society are to
be found in popular recordings: Captain Beefheart and His Magic Band, Trout
Mask Replica, Straight STS 1053; The Mothers of Invention, We’re Only in It
for the Money, Verve V6 5045X; and The Firesign Theatre, Don’t Crush That
Dwarf, Hand Me the Pliers, Columbia C30102, and I Think We’re All Bozos on
This Bus, C30737.

7. Jacques Ellul, The Technological Society, trans. John Wilkinson (New York:
Alfred A. Knopf, 1964), pp. 173-177, 168-169.

8. See, for example, Karl Marx, The Civil Warin France (New York: International
Publishers, 1940), and Karl Marx and Friedrich Engels, Manifesto of the Commu-
nist Party in Marx and Engels, Basic Writings on Politics and Philosophy, ed.
Lewis S. Feuer (New York: Doubleday & Company, Anchor Books, 1959),

pp. 1-41.

9. See Karl Jaspers, Man in the Modern Age, trans. Eden and Cedar Paul (Garden
City: Doubleday & Company. Anchor Press, 1957), pp. 21-22.

10. Ellul, Technological Society, p. 238.

11. Jean Piaget identifies “self-regulation” as a basic property of all structures,

“self-regulation entailing self-maintenance and closure,” in his Structuralism,
trans. and ed. Chaninah Maschler (New York: Basic Books, 1970), pp. 13-16.
12. Jean-Jacques Rousseau, The First and Second Discourses, ed. Roger D.
Masters and trans. Roger D. and Judith R. Masters (New York: St. Martin’s
Press, 1964), pp. 60-62, 151-155.

Notes 357
Chapter 5

13. Michael Oakeshott, Rationalism in Politics (New York: Basic Books, 1962),
pp. 10-11, 80-110.

14. A particularly good discussion of this meaning of rationality is found in
Hubert L. Dreyfus, What Computers Can’t Do (New York: Harper & Row, 1972),
Pp. XV-XxXxv.

15. Ellul, Technological Society, p. 79.

16. Max Weber, From Max Weber, trans. and ed. H. H. Gerth and C. Wright
Mills (New York: Oxford University Press, Galaxy Books, 1958), pp. 155, 293.
See also Herbert Marcuse’s “‘Industrialization and Capitalism in the Work of Max
Weber,” in his Negations: Essays in Critical Theory (Boston: Beacon Press,
1968), pp. 201-226, and Jurgen Habermas, Toward a Rational Society, trans.
Jeremy Shapiro (Boston: Beacon Press, 1970), pp. 50-122.

17. David S. Landes, The Unbound Prometheus: Technological Change and
Industrial Development in Western Europe from 1750 to the Present (Cambridge:
At the University Press, 1969), pp. 21-26, 546.

18. James D. Thompson, Organizations in Action (New York: McGraw-Hill,
1967), p. 14. “Technical rationality,” he argues, ‘“‘can be evaluated by two cri-
teria: instrumental and economic. The essence of the instrumental question is
whether the specified actions do in fact produce the desired outcome, and the
instrumentally perfect technology is one which inevitably achieves such results.”
19. Ellul’s definition of technique stresses this conclusion. “In our technological
society, technique is the totality of methods rationally arrived at and having
absolute efficiency (for a given stage of development) in every field of human
activity.” Ellul, Technological Society, p. xxv.

20. Lewis Mumford, The Myth of the Machine: Technics and Human Develop-
ment (New York: Harcourt, Brace and World, 1967), chap. 11.

21. See John Blair, Economic Concentration: Structure, Behavior and Public
Policy (New York: Harcourt Brace Jovanovich, 1972).

22. Lewis Mumford, Art and Technics (New York: Columbia University Press,
1960).

23. Francis Bacon, Novum Organum, in Selected Writings o f Francis Bacon, ed.
Hugh G. Dick (New York: The Modern Library, 1955), p. 534. °

24. Siegfried Giedion, Mechanization Takes Command (New York: W. W. Norton,
1969), pp. 32-33. See also Reyner Banham’s excellent discussion of technology
and modern architecture, Theory and Designin the First Machine Age (New
York: Praeger Publishers, 1967).

25. Giedion ties together some of the notions we are developing in the following
statement in his conclusion, ‘Man in Equipoise.” ‘From the very first it was
clear that mechanization involved a division of labor. The worker cannot manu-

Notes 358

facture a product from start to finish; from the standpoint of the consumer the
product becomes increasingly difficult to master. When the motor of his car

fails, the owner often does not know which part is causing the trouble; an elevator
strike can paralyze the whole life of New York. As a result, the individual
becomes increasingly dependent on production and on society as a whole, and
relations are far more complex and interlocked than in any earlier society. This is
one reason why today man is overpowered by means.” Giedion, Mechanization,

p. 714.

26. Thorstein Veblen, The Engineers and the Price System (New York: The
Viking Press, 1954), p. 52.

27. Ibid., p. 122.

28. Ibid., p. 57.

29. Ellul, Technological Society, p. 193.

30. Herbert Marcuse, Eros and Civilization (New York: Random House, Vintage
Books, 1962), p. vii.

31. Ibid.

32. G. W. F. Hegel, The Phenomenology of Mind, trans. J. B. Baillie (London:
George Allen & Unwin Ltd., 1931), pp. 236-237.

33. Ibid., p. 238.

34. Friedrich Nietzsche, The Genealogy of Morals, with The Birth of Tragedy,
trans. Francis Golffing (New York: Doubleday & Company, Anchor Books,
1956). A similar argument with “truth” and “falsity” as the focus is found

in Nietzsche’s essay, “Truth and Falsity in an Ultramoral Sense,” in The Phil-
osophy of Nietzsche, ed. Geoffrey Clive (New York: New American Library,
Mentor Books, 1965), pp. 503-515.

35. The Oxford English Dictionary, “robot” (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1971).

36. Karel Capek, R. U, R. (Rossum’s Universal Robots), inOf Men and Machines,
ed. Arthur O. Lewis, Jr. (New York: E. P. Dutton, 1963), p. 52.

37. See Hiram Haydn’s The Counter-Renaissance (New York: Harcourt, Brace

& World, 1950), pp. 295-296, and Michael Walzer, The Revolution of the Saints
(London: Weidenfeld and Nicoloson, 1966), chap. 1. Both works give an interest-
ing comparison of medieval and modern notions of order and membership,

38. Thomas Carlyle, Sartor Resartus, in Carlyle’s Complete Works, The Vellum
Edition, Vol. I (Boston: Dana Estes and Charles E. Lauriat, 1884), pp. 31-32.

39. E. J. Dijksterhuis, The Mechanization of the World Picture trans. C. Dik-
shoorn (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1961).

40. Julien Offray de La Mettrie, Man a Machine (La Salle, Ill.: Open Court
Publishing Company, 1961), p. 93.

41. For the major arguments now marshalled in this continuing debate, see Dean

Notes 359
Chapter 5

E. Woolridge, Mechanical Man: The Physical Basis of Intelligent Life (New York:
McGraw-Hill, 1968); Floyd W. Matson, The Broken Image: Man, Science and
Society (New York: Doubleday & Company, Anchor Books, 1966); B. F. Skinner,
Beyond Freedom and Dignity (New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 1971), p. 204.
Woolridge, p. 204, explains in defense of the mechanistic view that “men who

know they are machines should be able to bring a higher degree of objectivity to
bear on their problems than machines that think they are Men.”

42. See Leo Marx, The Machine in the Garden: Technology and the Pastoral Ideal
in America (New York, Oxford University Press, 1964).

43. Lewis Mumford, The Myth of the Machine: The Pentagon of Power (New
York: Harcourt Brace Jovanovich, 1970), pp. 163-169.

44. Rousseau, First and Second Discourses, p. 151.
45. Ibid., p. 152.

46. Ibid., pp. 153-154.

47. Ralph Waldo Emerson, Works and Days, in Of Men and Machines, ed. Arthur
O. Lewis (New York: E. P. Dutton, 1963), p. 68.

48. “Civilization is a reagent and eats away the old traits.” Emerson in English
Traits, cited by Oxford English Dictionary, “reagent.”

49. Emerson, Works and Days, p. 68.

50. Bruno Bettelheim, The Informed Heart: Autonomy in a Mass Age (New York:
The Free Press, 1960), p. 48.

51. Ibid., p. 49.
52. Ibid.

53. Thorstein Veblen, The Theory of Business Enterprise (New York: New Ameri-
can Library, Mentor Books, 1970), p. 144.

54. Ibid., p. 146.
55. Ibid., pp. 146-147.
56. Ibid., p. 177.

57. “Without exception in the course of history, technique belonged to a civt-
lization and was merely a single element among a host of nontechnical activities.
Today technique has taken over the whole of civilization. Certainly, technique
is no longer the simple machine substitute for human labor. It has come to be
the ‘intervention into the very substance not only of the inorganic but also of
the organic.’ ” Ellul, Technological Society, p. 128.

58. Ibid., p. 98.

59, Emerson, Works and Days, p. 64.

60. Marcuse, One-Dimensional Man, p. 33.
61. Ibid., pp. 36-37.

Notes 360

62. Ibid., p. 37.
63. Ibid., p. 42.

64. Friedrich Georg Juenger, The Failure of Technology (Chicago: Henry Regnery,
1956), p. 8.

65. Hannah Arendt, The Human Condition (Chicago: University of Chicago Press,
1958), p. 131.

66. Jules Henry, Culture Against Man (New York: Random House, Vintage Books,
1965). pp. 15-24.

67. Marcuse, Eros and Civilization, pp. 32-34, and One-Dimensional Man, chaps.
1-3.

68. Ellul’s assessment of Marcuse’s position in the debate is offered in his Au-
topsy of Revolution, trans. Patricia Wolf (New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 1971),
pp. 287-290. One of the kinder things he says is the following: ‘Although Freud’s
work suggests a revolutionary approach to sexual repression, which begins in the
family and is perpetuated by a network of social relationships, he was cautious
and never indulged in the acrobatic fantasies of Marcuse, not because he was
hopelessly bourgeois, but out of recognition of the unreliability of the uncon-
scious, which made repression necessary, and out of a somewhat skeptical view

of revolution. He thought that revolution could not ‘change life,’ as the rein-
forced pattems of servility, guilt, and repression would be likely to reappear in
seemingly different social surroundings. I accept the logic of that view, whereas
‘Freudian-Marxist syntheses’ strike me as so much haphazard verbiage—but
dangerous, still, as all meaningless verbiage is, for they shunt the revolutionary
impulse into dead storage, identifying the sexual explosion with revolution,

and giving sterile and brutish expression to the whole legacy of revolution”

(ibid., p. 287). To the best of my knowledge, Herbert Marcuse has not yet pub-
lished a response to the work of Jacques Ellul.

69. Ellul, Technological Society, p. 64-79.
70. Ibid., p. 65.

71. Ibid., p. 191.

72. Ibid.

73. Ibid., p. 192.

74. Ibid.

75. Lewis Mumford, Technics and Civilization (New York: Harcourt, Brace &
World, 1934), p. 232.

76. Ellul, Technological Society, p. 142.

77. Ibid., p. 325. ‘*The milieu in which he lives is no longer his. He must adapt
himself, as though the world were new, to a universe for which he was not
created.”

Notes 361
Chapter 5

78. The best attempt is the provocative essay The Dehumanization of Art by
Jose Ortega y Gasset (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1951).

79. Giedion, Mechanization, p. vi.

80. Ibid., p. 97.

81. Ibid., p. 533.

82. Ibid., p. 246.

83. Ibid., p. 712.

84. Ellul, Technological Society, p. 183.

85. Ibid., p. 193.

86. Ibid., p. 168.

87. Ibid., pp. 168-169.

88. Ibid., p. 325.

89. Ibid., chap. 5.

90. Ibid., p. 395.

91. Ibid.

92. Jaspers, Man, p. 73.

93. Ellul, Technological Society, p. 219.

94. Ibid.

95. Michael Rose, Computers, Managers and Society (Baltimore: Penguin Books,
1969), p. 159. :
96. Ibid., p. 161.

97. See Samuel C. Florman, The Existential Pleasures of Engineering (New York:
St. Martin’s Press, 1976).

98. An eloquent analysis of this kind is given in Percy Bysshe Shelley’s ‘‘A De-
fense of Poetry,” in The Selected Poetry and Prose of Shelley, ed. Harold Bloom
(New York: New American Library, 1966), pp. 415-448. Shelley observes that
the poets, once the true “legislators or prophets” of the world, “have been
challenged to resign the civic crown to reasoners and mechanists”’ (ibid., pp.
419, 439). He predicts that a withering of the poetic faculty can only spell disas-
ter for a society driven by a new and highly productive rational knowledge.

“We want the creative faculty to imagine that which we know; we want the
generous impulse to act that which we imagine; we want the poetry of life: our
calculations have outrun conception; we have eaten more than we can digest”
(ibid., p. 441). Shelley sees very clearly the conflict of the two worlds of com-
plexity. He also anticipates with considerable accuracy a problem that would
arise in the twentieth century, information overload. Compare to the issues dis-
cussed in chapter 7 of this book.

Notes 362

99. See PeterGay, Weimar Culture: The Outsider as Insider (New York: Harper
& Row, 1968); Hans Kohn, The Mind of Germany (New York: Harper & Row,
1965).

100. Marcuse, One-Dimensional Man, p. 31.

101. Ibid., p. 14.

102. Ibid., p. 103.

103. Ibid., p. 104.

104. W. T. Singleton, Man-Machine Systems (Harmondsworth, England: Penguin
Books, 1974), p. 37.

105. For an interesting treatment of systems analysis in this context, see Ida R.
Hoos, Systems Analysis in Public Policy: A Critique (Berkeley and Los Angeles:
University of California Press, 1972).

106. See Paul Brett Hammond, “‘Language, Social Choice and Systems Analysis
in Theory and Practice,” 1975, an unpublished paper.

107. I confess that this sentence is my own. It would, however, probably not be
noticed as anything out of the ordinary in the conversations of today’s engineers,
planners, and social scientists.

108. See Marcuse, Negations, pp. 201-226.

109. Emmanuel G. Mesthene, Technological Change: Its Impact on Man and
Society (New York: New American Library, 1970), pp. 15-20.

110. Ellul, Technological Society, p. 220.

111. I am not saying that the notion of “use” with regard to advanced technology
is totally nonsensical, only that it is a misleading concept in many cases. Most

talk about “using” large-scale, complex technical systems is, I believe, merely

a bad linguistic habit, an anachronism that leaves the speaker impotent in dealing
with the problem at hand.

112. Kenneth Keniston, The Uncommitted: Alienated Youth in American Society
(New York: Delta, 1967), p. 379.

113. Ibid., p. 366.
114. Ellul, Technological Society, p. 277.

115. Jacques Ellul, Presence of the Kingdom, trans. Olive Wyon (New York:
Seabury Press, 1967), p. 66.

116. Ibid.

117. Gene L. Maeroff, ‘Writing Test for College is Urged,” New York Times,
January 25, 1976. The statement is by Albert G. Sims, a vice-president of the
College Entrance Examination Board.

118. Ellul, Technological Society, p. 80

119. Jacob Schmookler, Invention and Economic Growth (Cambridge, Mass.:

Notes 363
Chapter 6

Harvard University Press, 1966). See also The Economics of Technological Change,
ed. Nathan Rosenberg (Harmondsworth, England: Penguin Books, 1971), a good
anthology of essays containing works by Schmookler, Joseph Schumpeter, A. P,
Usher, Robert Solow, and other economists.

Notes to Chapter 6
1. Jacques Ellul, The Technological Society, trans. John Wilkinson (New York:
Alfred A. Knopf, 1964), p. 166.

2. Ibid., p. 184.

3. Ibid., p. 177.

4. A sample of this response is found in Melvin Kranzberg, ‘Historical Aspects

of Technology Assessment,” Technology Assessment Hearings Before the Sub-
committee on Science, Research and Development of the U.S. House of Rep-
resentatives (Washington: U.S. Government Printing Office, 1970). After a brief
survey of the ideas of Ellul, Mumford, and Marcuse, Kranzberg concludes: ‘‘While
such wholesale indictments may stimulate nihilistic revolutionary movements,
they really tell us very little about what can be done to guide and direct tech-
nological innovation along socially beneficial lines’”’ (ibid., p. 385).

5. Another interesting side to the “forward”-‘‘backward” view counsels that the
forward direction is ineluctable. In his statement to a U.S. Senate hearing in
1970, Harvey Brooks took care to deny the proposition that “technological
progress” is a “largely autonomous development.” But he went on to say,
“While this pessimistic view of technology is not without evidence to support
it, I believe it represents only a partial truth. Furthermore, it is an essentially
sentimental and irrational view, because man in fact has no choice but to pusli
forward with his technology. The world is already irrevocably committed to a
technological culture [emphasis added].” Reprinted ibid., p. 331.

6. Herbert Marcuse, Negations: Essays in Critical Theory, trans. Jeremy J. Shapiro
(Boston: Beacon Press, 1969), p. xiii.

7. John Kenneth Galbraith, The New Industrial State (New York: The New
American Library, 1968), p. 37.

8. Ibid., p. 39.
9. Ibid.

10. Ibid., p. 41.

11. Compare Grant McConnell, Private Power and American Democracy (New
York: Alfred A. Knopf, 1966), and the reports of the Ralph Nader Study groups:
James S. Turner, The Chemical Feast: The Ralph Nader Study Group Report on
the Food and Drug Administration (New York: Grossman Publishers, 1970);
Robert Fellmeth, The Interstate Commerce Omission: The Ralph Nader Study
Group Report on the Interstate Commerce Commission and Transportation
(New York: Grossman Publishers, 1970).

Notes 364

12. Gene Marine and Judy Van Allen, Food Pollution (New York: Holt, Rine-
hart & Winston, 1972). ;

13. See Clark R. Mollenhoff, The Pentagon: Politics, Profits and Plunder (New
York: Pinnacle Books, 1972); Murray Weidenbaum, “Arms and the American
Economy: A Domestic Convergence Hypothesis,” Quarterly Review of Eco-
nomics and Business 8 (Spring 1968); Ralph Lapp, The Weapons Culture (Balti-
more: Penguin Books, 1968); Seymour Melman, Pentagon Capitalism: The
Political Economy of War (New York: McGraw-Hill, 1970).

14. Ellul, Technological Society, p. 225.
15. Ibid., p. 221.

16. See Theodor Adorno, Minima Moralia, trans. E. F. N. Jephcott (London:
NLB, 1974); Max Horkheimer, Critical Theory, trans. Matthew J. O’Connell

et al. (New York: Herder and Herder, 1972); Jiirgen Habermas, Legitimation
Crisis, trans. Thomas McCarthy (Boston: Beacon Press, 1975). An interesting,
polemical review of the progress of the Frankfurt school is given in Goran
Therborn’s article, ‘‘A Critique of the Frankfurt School,’ New Left Review,

no. 63 (September-October 1970): 65-96.

17. “Propaganda is a set of methods employed by an organized group that wants
to bring about the active or passive participation in its actions of a mass of indi-
viduals, psychologically unified through psychological manipulations and incor-
porated in an organization.” Jacques Ellul, Propaganda, trans. Konrad Kellen
(New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 1967), p. 61.

18. See John Blair, Economic Concentration: Structure, Behavior and Public
Policy (New York: Harcourt Brace Jovanovich, 1972), chap. 5.

19. Lewis Mumford, Technics and Civilization (New York: Harcourt Brace &
World, 1934), pp. 223-224.

20. Ellul, Technological Society, p. 237.

21. Lewis Mumford, The Myth of the Machine: The Pentagon o f Power (New
York: Harcourt, Brace Jovanovich, 1970), pp. 239, 268-273.

22. Ellul, Technological Society, pp. 193-194.

23. F. J. Roethlisberger and William J. Dickson, Management and the Worker
(Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1939); Elton Mayo, The Social
Problems of Industrial Civilization (Boston: Graduate School of Business Ad-
ministration, Harvard University, 1945).

24. Richard M. Cyert and James G. March, A Behavioral Theory of the Firm
(Englewood Cliffs: Prentice-Hall, 1963).

25. See Arthur L. Stinchcombe, “ Bureaucratic and Craft Administration of

Production,” Administrative Science Quarterly 4 (1959): 168-187; Peter M.
Blau and W. Richard Scott, Formal Organizations: A Comparative Approach
(San Francisco: Chandler Publishing Co., 1962), pp. 207-214.

Notes 365
Chapter 6

26. See Warren G. Bennis, Changing Organizations (New York: McGraw-Hill,
1963); Frederick C. Thayer, An End to Hierarchy! An End to Competition!
(New York: New Viewpoints, 1973). The research and thinking of political
scientist Robert Biller, none of it yet published, focus upon the rise of “collegial”
forms of organization in highly sophisticated technical fields.

27. David Bray brooke and Charles E. Lindblom, A Strategy of Decision (New
York: The Free Press, 1970).

28. Warren G. Bennis and Philip E. Slater, The Temporary Society (New York:
The Free Press, 1970).

29. Ellul, Technological Society, p. 307.

30. Ibid., p. 196.

31. Ibid., p. 307.

32. Ibid., p. 274.

33. Ibid.

34. Ibid., p. 259.

35. Ibid., p. 186.

36. See Jean Meynaud, Technocracy, Trans. Paul Barnes (New York: The Free
Press, 1964), p. 206, for an agonizing effort to appraise the situation. ‘The spirit
of our day,” he observes, “directed towards the search for maximal productivity,
is definitely favourable to technocratic ideology. At this point, it is essential to
identify those who will benefit from the movement.”

37. Herbert Marcuse, Negations: Essays in Critical Theory (Boston: Beacon
Press, 1968), p. 224.

38. Herbert Marcuse, One-Dimensional Man: Studies in the Ideology of Advanced
Industrial Society (Boston: Beacon Press, 1964), p. 32.

39. Karl Marx and Friedrich Engels, Manifesto of the Communist Party, in Marx
and Engels: Basic Writings on Politics and Philosophy, ed. Lewis Feuer (New
York: Doubleday & Company, Anchor Books, 1959), p. 28.

40. V. I. Lenin, “The Tasks of the Youth Leagues,” speech delivered at the
Third All-Russia Congress of the Russian Young Communist League, October

2, 1920, in Lenin: Selected Works (New York: International Publishers, 1971),
p. 607.

41. Ibid., p. 612.

42. V.I. Lenin, “The Immediate Tasks of the Soviet Government,” in Lenin,

p- 417.

43. Ibid. In his essay ‘* ‘Left-Wing’ Childishness and Petty-Bourgeois Mentality,”
Lenin says of the Menshevik critics of scientific management: “It would be
extremely useful indeed for the workers to think over the reason why such

Notes 366

lackeys of the bourgeoisie should incite the workers to resist the Taylor system
and the ‘establishment of trusts’ ” (ibid., p. 450).

44. The essay was left unfinished. “It is more pleasant and useful to go through
the ‘experience of revolution’ than to write about it,’’ Lenin observes.
State and Revolution (New York: International Publishers, 1943), p. 101.

45. Ibid., pp. 7-10.
46. Ibid., p. 16.

47. Ibid., pp. 15-20.
48. Ibid., p. 27.

49. Ibid., p. 80.

50. Ibid., p. 84.

51. Ibid., p. 82.

52. Ibid.

53. Ibid.

54. ‘Overthrow the capitalists, crush with the iron hand of the armed workers
the resistance of these exploiters, break the bureaucratic machine of the modern
state—and you have before you a mechanism of the highest technical equipment,
freed of ‘parasites,’ capable of being set into motion by the united workers
themselves who hire their own technicians, managers, bookkeepers, and pay them
all, as, indeed, every ‘state’ official, with the usual workers’ wage.” Ibid., p. 43.

55. Ibid., p. 40. ;
56. Ibid., p. 52.

57. Ibid.

58. Ibid., p. 91.

59. Ibid., pp. 91-92.

60. Ibid., p. 92.

61. Ibid., p. 83.

62. Ibid.

63. See, for example, Rosa Luxembourg, “The Russian Revolution,” in Rosa
Luxembourg Speaks, ed. Mary Alice Waters (New York: Pathfinder Press, 1970),
pp. 367-395; E. H. Carr, A History of Soviet Russia (Middlesex, England: 1968);
Isaac Deutscher, Stalin: A Political Biography (New York: Oxford University
Press, 1967); Daniel Cohn-Bendit and Gabriel Cohn-Bendit, Obsolete Commu-
nism, The Left-Wing Alternative, trans. Arnold Pomerans (New York: McGraw-
Hill, 1968).

64. Deutscher, Stalin, especially chap. 8, “The Great Change.”

65. Lenin, ‘“‘Tasks of the Youth Leagues,” p. 611.

Notes 367
Chapter 7

66. Karl Marx, quoted in Lenin, State and Revolution, pp. 78-79.
67. Lenin, State and Revolution, p. 79.

68. Ibid.

69. Ibid.

70. Ibid., p. 83.

71. Ibid., pp. 83-84.

72. See China: Science Walks on Two Legs (New York: Avon Books, 1974);
E. L. Wheelwright and Bruce McFarlane, The Chinese Road to Socialism: Eco-
nomics of the Cultural Revolution (New York: Monthly Review Press, 1970).
For a critique of exorbitant left-wing hopes for Chinese socialism, see Gilbert
Padoul, “China 1974: Problems Not Models,” New Left Review, no. 89 (Janu-
ary-February 1975): 73-84.

73. Jiirgen Habermas, Toward a Rational Society, trans. Jeremy Shapiro (Boston:
Beacon Press, 1970), chap. 6.

74. Ellul, Technological Society, p. 291.
75. Ibid., p. 282.

Notes to Chapter 7

1. Thomas Hobbes, quoted in Richard Peters, /fobbes (Baltimore: Penguin
Books, 1967), p. 68.

2. Plato, The Republic, I. 332-343, VI. 488-489.
3. Thomas Hobbes, Leviathan, ed. Michael Oakeshott (New York: Collier, 1962),
p. 19.

4. Jacques Ellul, The Technological Society, trans. John Wilkinson (New York:
Alfred A. Knopf, 1964), p. 134.

5. Ibid.
6. Ibid.
7. Ibid.

8. Arthur Koestler, The Act of Creation (New York: Dell Publishing, 1967),
p. 264.

9. See my “Complexity and the Limits of Human Understanding,” in Todd R.
La Porte, ed., Organized Social Complexity: Challenge to Politics and Policy
(Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1975), pp. 40-76.

10. Ellul, Technological Society, pp. 141-146.
11. See note 9.

12. Amitai Etzioni, The Active Society: A Theory of Societal and Political Proc-
esses (New York: The Free Press, 1968), pp. 142-146.

Notes 368

13. Ludwig von Bertalanffy, General System Theory: Foundations, Develop-
ment, Applications (New York: George Braziller, 1968), p. 30.

14. Ibid., p. 33.

15. Ibid., pp. vii-viii.

16. Paul Valery, “Unpredictability,” in his History and Politics, trans. Denise
Folliot and Jackson Mathew (New York: Pantheon Books, 1962), p. 69.

17. H. G, Wells, The Mind at the End of Its Tether (London: William Heinemann
Ltd., 1945), p. 4.
18. Ibid., p. 34.
19. David Braybrooke and Charles Lindblom, A Strategy of Decision (New York:
The Free Press, 1963). Another interesting interpretation of the political order
as a self-adjusting mechanism is the cybernetic theory of Karl W. Deutsch, Nerves
of Government: Models of Political Communication and Control (New York:
The Free Press, 1966). This writer’s critique of Deutsch’s theory is given in
‘Cybernetics and Political Language: A Response to Karl Deutsch,” Berkeley
Journal of Sociology 14 (1969): 1-17.

20. Charles E. Lindblom, “The Science of Muddling Through,” Public Admin:-
stration Review 19 (Spring 1959); 80.

21. Braybrooke and Lindblom, Strategy of Decision, p. 85.
22. Lindblom, “Science of Muddling Through,” p. 85.

23. Ibid.

24. Ibid.

25. Charles E. Lindblom, The Intelligence of Democracy (New York: The Free
Press, 1965).

26. Adam Smith, An Inquiry into the Nature and Causes o f the Wealth of Nations
(New York: The Modern Library), p. 423,

27. Braybrooke and Lindblom, Strategy of Decision, p. 73.

28. Paul Goodman, New Reformation: Notes of a Neolithic Conservative (New
York: Random House, 1970), pp. 192-193.

29. Jacques Ellul’s discussion of “the necessary and the ephemeral” is useful in
this regard. The Political Illusion, trans. Konrad Kellen (New York: Alfred A.
Knopf, 1967), chap. 1.

30. See Joseph Weizenbaum, Computer Power and Human Reason: From Judg-

ment to Calculation (San Francisco: W. H. Freeman and Company, 1976), chap. 9.

31. “Vietnam Bombing Evaluation by Institute for Defense Analyses,” in The
Pentagon Papers (New York: Bantam Books, 1971), p. 502.

32. Ibid., p. 505.
33. Ibid.

Notes 369
Chapter 8

34. Ibid., p. 506. he
35. Ibid., pp. 506-507.
36. Ibid., pp. 507-508.

$7. Harold L. Wilensky, Organizational Intelligence: Knowledge ond, :
Government and Industry (New York: Basic Books, 1967), p. 46:

38. Ibid., p. 42.

39. Ibid.

40. A discussion of the electronic battlefield and of other aspects of
technological warfare is contained in Michael T. Klare’s War Without End
York: Random House, Vintage Books, 1972), chaps. 5-7.

41. Barbara Tuchman, The Guns of August (New York: Dell Publishing Gay,
1963), pp. 94-95.

42. Ibid., p. 99.

43. See David Kraslow and Stuart H. Loory, The Secret Search for Peace tn
Vietnam (New York: Random House, Vintage Books, 1968), pp. 3-8,

44. Report to the President and the Secretary of Defense on the Department af
Defense by the Blue Ribbon Defense Panel (Washington, D.C.: Government
Printing Office, 1970).

45. As reported by Hannah Arendt, Eichmann in Jerusalem: A Report on the
Banality of Evil, rev. and enl. (New York: The Viking Press, 1964), p. 57.

46. Ibid., p. 25.
47, Raphael Littauer and Norman Uphoff, eds., The Air War in Indo-China
(Boston: Beacon Press, 1972), pp. 158-159.

48. Ibid., p. 159.

49. Marvin Minsky, ‘‘Steps Toward Artificial Intelligence,” in Computers and
Thought, ed. Edward A. Feigenbaum and Julian Feldman (New York: McGraw-
Hill, 1963), p. 447. Iam indebted to Joseph Weizenbaum for calling this point

to my attention.

50. Max Horkheimer, Eclipse of Reason (New York: Seabury Press, 1974), p. 102,

Notes to Chapter 8

1. Mary Shelley, Frankenstein, or The Modern Prometheus, in Three Gothic
Novels, ed. Peter Fairclough (Harmondsworth: Penguin Books, 1968), p. 295.
The Penguin edition reprints the text of Frankenstein published in London in
1831 by Colburn and Bentley and contains Mary Shelley’s final revisions. Com-
pare to the first edition in Frankenstein, or The Modern Prometheus (the 1818
text), ed. James Rieger (New York: Bobbs-Merrill, 1974). Mary Shelley’s life and
writings are discussed in Eileen Bigland, Mary Shelley (London: Cassell, 1959);
Elizabeth Nitchie, Mary Shelley, Author of “Frankenstein” (New Brunswick:

Notes 370

Rutgers University Press, 1953); Margaret (Carter) Leighton, Shelley’s Mary: The
Life of Mary Godwin Shelley (New York: Farrar, Straus, & Giroux, 1973). Those
interested in a quick, provocative account of the story behind the novel can turn
to Samuel Rosenberg’s essay, ‘Frankenstein, or Daddy’s Little Monster,” in

The Confessions of a Trivialist (Baltimore: Penguin Books, 1972).

. Shelley, Frankenstein, p. 307.
. Ibid., p. 312.

. Ibid., pp. 318-319.

. Ibid., p. 319.

. Ibid., p. 364.

. Ibid., p. 363.

. Ibid., p. 364.

9. Ibid., p. 366.

10. Ibid., p. 413.

11. Ibid., p. 435.

12. Ibid., pp. 435-436,
13. Ibid., p. 436.

14. Ibid., p. 439.

15. See Rosenberg, ‘‘Frankenstein.” There is now a growing literature on the
historical background of the novel. See N. H. Brailsford, Shelley, Godwin and
Their Circle (New York: Henry Holt and Co., 1913); Christopher Small, Mary
Shelley’s Frankenstein—Tracing the Myth (Pittsburgh: University of Pittsburgh
Press, 1973); Radu Florescu, In Search of Frankenstein (Boston: New York
Graphic Society, 1975); Ellen Moers, “Female Gothic: The Monster’s Mother,”
New York Review of Books, March 21, 1974.

16. See Mario Praz’s introduction to Three Gothic Novels, pp. 25-31.

17. Percy Bysshe Shelley, Prometheus Unbound, in The Selected Poetry and
Prose of Shelley, ed. Harold Bloom (New York: New American Library, 1966),
p. 121.

18. Ibid., p. 124.

19. Spiro T. Agnew, ‘“‘Address by the Vice President of the United States to the
Printing Industries of America Convention;” transcript, New York, New York,
July 12, 1972. See also Mr. Agnew’s philosophy of progress in ‘‘Address by the
Vice President of the United States at the Alaska Republican Luncheon,” trans-
cript, Fairbanks, Alaska, July 24, 1972.

20. The French philosophes, for example, saw progress as the development of

education and moral virtue, as well as the growth of science and technology. They
appreciated the contributions of the past to this development, rejecting the now

on HD oO ff OF PD

Notes 371
Chapter 8

common view that only the latest thing counts. In the Encyclopeditg
summarizes this outlook: “The aim of an encyclopedia is to callegt-al
edge scattered over the face of the earth, to present its general outlings
ture to the men with whom we live, and to transmit this to thoa¢ whe f
after us, so that the work of past centuries may be useful to the f
turies, that our children, by becoming more educated, may at the
become more virtuous and happier, and that we may not die without
deserved well of the humanrace.” The Encyclopedia, Selections, dy
Stephen J. Gendzier (New York: Harper & Row, 1967), p. 92.

21. Representative works in this genre are: Technology: Process¢s of
and Choice, Report of the National Academy of Sciences, Committed 68
and Astronautics, U.S. House of Representatives (Washington, D.C,, 6
Printing Office, 1969); Herman Kahn and Anthony J. Wiener, The Yep
A Framework for Speculation on the Next Thirty-Three Years (New Yorki
Macmillan, 1967); Harvard University Program on Technology and §oe
1964-1972: A Final Review (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University a "
Other prominent voices in the conversation include the followers of R. fue ;
minster Fuller, for example, John McHale, The Future of the Future (New Mate i
George Braziller, Inc., 1969), and the ubiquitous environmentalists, for eMampt
Barry Commoner, The Closing Circle: Nature, Man and Technology (New York.
Alfred A. Knopf, 1971).

22. See The Impacts of Snow Enhancement: Technology of Winter Orographit
Snowpack Augmentation in the Upper Colorado River Basin, comp. Leo Wi te
Weisbecker (Norman, Okla.: University of Oklahoma Press, 1974),

23. Under the National Environmental Policy Act of 1970, all government agefi
cies doing work likely to have an impact on the environment are required to
prepare a detailed study covering the likely effects of their projects on thé a
ment. These impact statements are supposed to consider alternative plant and
to show why the one chosen is preferable. The law has given birth to &@ smal]
new industry of impact statement writing, much of which operates undef ¢
influence of the science of public relations. 4

gH

24. For the distinction between “Technologies and Supporting Syste
Technology, pp. 15-18.
25. See, for example, Charles Reich’s The Greening of America (Naw ¥j j
Random House, 1970). One began to wonder about the viability of
“Consciousness ITI”? when one noticed how well it fit with the opera
modern corporation.

26. Stanley Cavell, “The Avoidance of Love,” in his Must We Mean
Say (New York: Charles Scribner’s Sons, 1969), pp. 337-353; Nad@!
delstam, Hope Abandoned: A Memoir, trans. Max Hayward (Londa
and Harvill Press, 1974), p. 182.

27. See Hannah Arendt, The Human Condition (Chicago: Unive

Notes 372

Press, 1958), and chap. 6 of On Revolution (New York: The Viking Press,
1963); Sheldon Wolin, Politics and Vision (Boston: Little, Brown, 1960);
Carole Pateman, Participation and Democratic Theory (Cambridge: Cambridge
University Press, 1970).

28. See Rosabeth Moss Kanter, Commitment.and Community: Communes and
Utopias in Sociological Perspective (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press,
1972); Sam Dolgoff, ed., The Anarchist Collectives: Workers’ Self-Management in
the Spanish Revolution, 1936-1938 (New York: Free Life Editions, 1974);
Albert Soboul, The Sans-Culottes: The Popular Movement and Revolutionary
Government, 1793-1794, trans. Remy Inglish Hall (New York: Doubleday &
Company, Anchor Books, 1972); Stewart Edwards, The Paris Commune 1871
(Chicago: Quadrangle Books, 1971).

29. See Terrence E. Cook and Patrick M. Morgan, eds. Participatory Democracy
(San Francisco: Canfield Press, 1971).

30. Paul Goodman, People or Personnel and Like a Conquered Province (New
York: Random House, Vintage Books, 1968), pp. 297-316; Murray Bookchin,
Post-Scarcity Anarchism (Berkeley: Ramparts Books, 1971); Herbert Marcuse,
An Essay on Liberation (Boston: Beacon Press, 1969); Jacques Ellul, Autopsy of
Revolution, trans. Patricia Wolf (New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 1971), chap. 5.

31. Erich Fromm finds in this tendency the foremost principle of action in the
technological society: ‘‘something ought to be done because it is technically
possible to do so.” The Revolution of Hope (New York: Bantam Books, 1968),
p. 33. In some understandings this principle or the motive it expresses is taken to
be “the technological imperative” itself. I have not adopted that definition here,
preferring to employ the term in the context presented in chapters 2 and 6. The
phenomenon Fromm and others have noticed is perhaps best called ‘‘techno-
mania.”

32, Gertrude Stein, Look At Me Now and Here I Am, Writings and Lectures
1909-45, ed. Patricia Meyerowitz (Baltimore: Penguin Books, 1971), p. 58.

33. See E. F. Schumacher, Small is Beautiful: Economics As If People Mattered
(New York: Harper & Row, 1973); Ivan Illich, Tools for Conviviality (New
York: Harper & Row, 1973); Wilson Clark, Energy for Survival: The Alternative
to Extinction (Garden City: Doubleday & Company, Anchor Books, 1975).

See also The Journal of the New Alchemists (Woods Hole, Mass.: The New
Alchemy Institute, 1973, 1974).

34. One peculiar response of thinkers now worried about the technological so-
ciety is to pretend in effect that one already lives in the future. A sophisticated
technology has been directed toward more intelligent ends and given a more
humane structure. Through the proper selection of new devices, the problems
of the old order have been surmounted. But in these future fantasies, of which
‘“‘pbostindustrialism”’ is now the most popular, there is almost no attempt to

Notes 373
Chapter 8

stipulate what will have happened to the technologies we will supposedly have
“gone beyond.” Since there are new technologies of information processing, for
example, we are somehow entitled to assume that the world of industrial tech-
nology has vanished.

35. Glenn T. Seaborg and Roger Corliss, Man and Atom (New York: E. P. Dutton,
1972), p. 265.

36. See Malcolm I. Thomis, The Luddites: Machine-Breaking in Regency England
(New York: Schocken Books, 1970); George Rude, The Crowd in History (New
York: John Wiley & Sons, 1964), pp. 79-92. I owe the formulation of the Luddite
criteria to Larry Spence.

37. Aeschylus, Prometheus Bound, in Aeschylus I, ed, David Grene and Richard
Lattimore and trans. David Grene (New York: Washington Square Press, 1967),
pp. 148-149.

38. Ibid., p. 144.
39. Ibid., p. 156.
40. Ibid.

Index

Acceleration, Henry Adams’s law of,
48-49
Access, as an alternative to understand-
ing, 286-287
Action, Hannah Arendt’s discussion of,
96-97
Adams, Charles Francis, Jr., 44
Adams, Henry, 19, 51
ondynamos, 44
Education, 44
his law of acceleration, 48-49
on mastery of science over man,
44-45
Adaptation, reverse, 226-236, 238-251
Adorno, Theodor, 115, 132, 247
Dialectic of Enlightenment, 116
Aeschylus, 53
Prometheus Bound, 334-335
Agency, loss of, in technological
systems, 295-305
Air war, 302-304
Albertus Magnus, Saint, 308
Alchemy, 23-25
Alembert, Jean Le Rond d’, 24
Alienation, Marx’s theory of, 36-40
Alternative technology, 321-333
Animism, autonomy and, 30-43 passim
Antiballistic missile system, 135, 245
Apollo program, 185
Apparatus
definition of term, 11, 75
technique, organization, and,
200-201
“Appropriate technology,” 321-327
Apraxia, danger of, in technological
* society, 185-187, 247
Apter, David, 51, 55
Arendt, Hannah, 95, 96-97, 176, 324,
337-338n21, 351n12
onaction, 96-97
on Adolf Eichmann, 301-302
on human essence, 111
on shift in focus of human energy,
205-206
Aristotle
Metaphysics, 25-26
Politics, 20-21, 114

Army Corps of Engineers, 244

Art, expression of autonomous tech-
nology in works of, 30-36

Artificial intelligence, 36, 304

Artificiality, concept of, 178

Atom bomb, implication for scientists
of dropping on Hiroshima of,
68-70

Augustine, Saint, The City of God, 123

Austin, J. L., 223

Authority, conceptions of, in techno-
cratic writings, 139-140, 351n12

of technology itself, 201, 270-271
Automation, 32-33, 203-205

Babbage, Charles, 92
Bacon, Francis, 24, 25, 109, 115, 308,
314
on bringing nature under man’s
governance, 117
on dissecting the universe, 182
New Atlantis, 135-139, 157, 170,
260
Novum Organum, 21-23, 136
and rule by technical elites, 146, 148
Bakunin, Mikhail A., 127
Barnett, Richard, 161
Bastille, self-storming, 255
Bauer, Raymond, 74-75
Beethoven, Ludwig van, 32
Bell, Daniel, 74-75, 153, 353n51
Bertalanffy, Ludwig von, 288-290
Bettelheim, Bruno, 16, 195, 198
Black, C.E., 50
“Black boxes,” 288
Black Panther party, 4
Blackout, East Coast (1965), 186
Blue Ribbon Panel, presidential, 301
Boeing, 245
Boguslaw, Robert, The New Utopians,
143
Bookchin, Murray, 326
Bourgeoisie, as carriers and beneficia-
ries of technical movement, 125
Braun, Wermher von, 31, 261
Brooks, Harvey, 90
Brooks, Mel, 307

Index 376

Burnham, James, 148, 162, 169
Butler, Samuel, Erewhon, 31
Byron, Lord, 127, 312

Cabinet of Dr. Caligari, The, 330

Calley, William, 302, 323

Campanella, Thomasso, 5, 6

Camus, Albert, 51

Capek, Karel, R.U.R. (Rossum’s Uni-
versal Robots), 189-190

Carlyle, Thomas, 19, 192

Cavell, Stanley, 323

Centralization of control, in techno-
logical society, 185, 252-256

Chaney, Lon, Jr., 307

Chaucer, Geoffrey, ‘“Canon’s Yeoman’s
Tale,” 23-24

Checks and balances, in Madison and
Price, 155-161

“Chess Player” (automaton), 32, 41

Chinese socialism, 277, 367n72

Choice, problem of in technical
change, 85-88, 92, 105-106,
233-236

Christian religious tradition, theories
of technological dynamism and,
111-115, 119-120

Citizenship, in a technological order,
207, 286, 295-296, 325

Civilization, nature and Western,
blamed for excesses of techno-
logical society, 108-118

Clarke, Arthur, 59

Class, ruling, in theory of technological
politics, 262-264

Clemens, Samuel (Mark Twain), 19,
217

Cohn-Bendit, Daniel, 273

College Entrance Examination Board
tests, 235

Colossus: The Forbin Project, 31

“Command and Control,” 29, 296-305

Complexity, 3, 48, 183, 210-219,
282-284

manifest social and concealed elec-

tronic, 284-295

natural and artificial, 183, 210
asa problem for moral responsibility,
295-305
Computers
credit for accomplishments of, 304
digital, 225
effect of, on education, 235
effect of, on political campaigns, 135
increasing humanness of, 58-59
Concentration of technical means,
181-182
Consciousness, false, 246-248
Consciousness raising, 328
Consequences, unintended, of techno-
logical innovation, 91-98, 103
Consolidated Edison, 234
Constitution, technology as a kind of,
323-324
Control
command and, 29, 296-305
fascination with in Western culture,
19
notion of, 26-27
related to use, 201-202
reverse adaptation and, 238-251
Copernicus, Nicolaus, 5
De Revolutionibus, 6
Costs and risks of technology, equita-
ble distribution of, 317-319
Cotton gin, as example of labor-saving
technology, 204
Council of Nuremberg, 121
Counterculture (late 1960s), 328-329
Creation, dilemmas of scientific and
technical, 30-32, 307-317
Crick, Bernard, 155
Crisis, manipulated by large-scale
systems, 249-250
Cultural lag thesis, 77
Cummings, E. E., 19
Cushing, Peter, 307
Cybernetics, 70-71, 368n19

Dahl, Robert, 89
Darwin, Charles, 57, 58
Defense, Department of, 249, 301

Index 377

Dehumanization, concept of, 212
Democracy
direct, 324
not “inevitable,” 254-255
pluralist, 89-92
Dependence, phenomenon of,
184-185, 190-194
Descartes, René, 115
Determinism, 61-62
A. L. Kroeber on, 67
and somnambulism, 324, 330
technological, 73-88
voluntary, 99
Dickens, Charles, 19
Diderot, Denis, 24
Dijksterhuis, E. J., 20
Diogenes, 217
Discipline, as a function of techno-
logical order, 190-208
Division of labor, 357-358n25
Lenin’s view of, 274-276
Marx’s theory of, 79-81
Division, technical, 182-183
DNA, moratorium on research on, 72
Domhoff, G. William, 147, 353n44
Domination
of nature, 108-116, 129-134
technology as a source of, 2-3,
173-174, 188
Drift, technological, 88-100
Dubos, René, So Human an Animal, 14
Duchamp, Marcel, 19
Du Pont family, 53
Durkheim, Emile, 63, 67-68
Rules of Sociological Method, 62
Dynamism, technological, 105,
107-108
Jacques Ellul on roots of, 118-130
search for “new ethic’”’ to limit,
130-134
theories of origins of , 108-118
Dynamos, Henry Adams’s fascination
with, 44

Economic and instrumental require-
ments, for successful functioning
of technologies, 100-103

Economic man, 218
Economics, inadequacy asa way of
understanding technological
society, 1, 236
Ego, Keniston’s concept of technologi-
cal, 230-232
Eichmann, Adolf, 15, 301-302, 323
Eisenhower, Dwight D., 148
Electronic battlefield, 298, 302-303
Elites, 256-257
membership of technical, 140-146
theory of, 147-151
Ellul, Jacques, 6, 40, 71, 176, 210,
326, 348-349n46, 349n50
on bourgeois culture, 227
on centralization, 253, 254, 261
on Christianity, 119-120,
348-349n46, 349n50
on effect of technology on humanity,
197-198, 206, 207-208
on exponential growth of technique,
61-64
on Herbert Marcuse, 360n68
on human needs, 246-248
on Karl Marx, 125-126
on loss of freedom, 187
on modern state, 256-257
on “natural social groups,” 122-124
on planning, 239
on political doctrine, 277-278
on propaganda, 247-248, 364n17
onrationality, 179-180
and reverse adaptation, 232, 233,
235-236
on roots of technological dynamism,
118-130
on self-augmentation of technique,
60-68, 72
on self-generating technological
change, 48, 49, 55-56
on sin and Satan, 348-349n 46
on technique, 9, 15-16, 52, 281-282
on technological evolution, 58
The Technological Society, 41-42,
63, 118, 123, 126, 131, 174, 177
on technological transformation,
214-215, 216-219

Index 378

Ellul, Jacques (continued)
theological position of, 348-349n 46,
349n50
on totalitarian technique, 105
on vertical integration, 101
Emerson, Ralph Waldo, 19, 198, 202,
359 n48
Works and Days, 195
Empedocles, 94
Ends, relation to means, 29-30, 233- «
234, 238-252, 278, 295-305
Energy crisis, 186, 250
Enfranchisement, in politics through
technical credentials, 170
Engels, Friedrich, 81-82, 266, 268, 270
Anti-Dithring, 82
Dialectics of Nature, 82
on technology and authority, 270
Engineers
Spengler’s view of, 145-146
Veblen’s view of, 143-145
Environmental movement, 92, 371 n23
Epictetus, 94
Epistemological Luddism, 325-335
Estates, four, 154-162 passim
Ethics, in large-scale systems, 301-305
Etzioni, Amitai, 288
“Events,” media, 295
Evolution, technological, 57-73
Extension, concept of, 178-179,
202-203
Extenuating circumstances, large-scale
systems as webs of, 303-304
Eternalities of technological change, 90

False consciousness, 246-248

Farnsworth, Philo T., 92

Farrington, Benjamin, 74

Ferkiss, Victor, 149

Finland,.impact of introduction of
snowmobile on Lapps of, 86-88

Food and Drug Administration, 244

Forces of production, Marx’s concept
of, 78-81, 82-83, 273-274

Ford, Henry, 163

Forrester, Jay, 129

Forgetfulness, technology as a form of,
314-315
Forms of life, technologies as, 201,
331
Forster, E. M., ‘“‘The Machine Stops,”
35-36, 38
Fourier, Charles, 127
Francis of Assisi, Saint, 131-132
Frankenstein, 31, 306-313, 316-317,
333, 369-370n1
Frankfurt Institute for Social Re-
search, 223, 348n27
Freedom, problem of human, 43, 46,
55, 194, 233-236
French Revolution, 255
Saint-Simon on, 140-141
Freud, Sigmund, 53
Future shock, 175-176

Galbraith, John Kenneth, 6, 261-262
Economics and the Public Purpose,
167
On minimizing market influences,
242-243
The New Industrial State, 14, 105,
168, 170-171
on the technostructure, 16, 151,
162-171
Galileo, 5 ;
Geneen, Harold, 185
General Dynamics, 245
General Electric, 243
General Motors, 243
General systems theory, 288-290
Genesis, 31,113, 114,115
Geometric progression, law of, 61-62
Gerlach, Walther, 68
Giedion, Siegfried, 176
Mechanization Takes Command,
174, 213-214
on process of division, 183
on process of transformation,
213-214, 216
Ginsberg, Allen, 3-4
Godwin, William, 307
Goodman, Paul, 55, 294, 326

Index 379

Goodman, Paul (continued)
and importance of planning, 240
and Luddism, 331
onnoncomprehensibility of tech-
nologies, 28
on uneasiness about science and
technology as New Reforma-
tion, 4, 5
Governance, technology as a kind of,
196-200, 237, 323-324
Great Exposition (Paris; 1900), 44
Growth, 47, 61-64, 103-106, 250

Habermas, Jiirgen, 247, 277
Hahn, Otto, 68-69, 70
Hartz, Louis, The Liberal Tradition in
America, 126
Hawthorne, Nathaniel, 19
“The Artist of the Beautiful,” 32, 34
Hegel, G. W. F., 10, 190, 220, 223
Phenomenology, 188-189
Heidegger, Martin, 130, 176, 219-220
Discourse on Thinking, 14
passivity of his view of technology,
131
vision of technology-out-of-control,
14
What is Called Thinking?, 131
Heilbroner, Robert, 88, 153
Heisenberg, Werner
Physics and Beyond, 68
Physics and Philosophy, 13
onresponsiblity of scientists, 68-70,
71
Helmer, Olaf, 74-75
Henry, Jules, 206
Heraclitus, 30, 94
Hero of Alexandria, 73-74
Hierarchy, 185
Historical materialism, 81-82
Hitler, Adolf, 15
Hobbes, Thomas, 26, 187, 281
Leviathan, 279-280
Holderlin, Friedrich, 220
Hollywood, motion pictures, concep-
tions of technology in, 31,
306-307

Horkheimer, Max, 132, 247
Dialectic of Enlightenment, 116
Eclipse of Reason, 115-116, 305

Human nature, 108-111
as machine-like, 192-193

Hunter, Floyd, 147

Husserl, Edmund, 130

Hydrogen bomb, decision to develop,

73

Ideology, in theory of technological
politics, 277-278
Tich, Ivan, 240
Imperative, technological, 100-105
distinguished from technomania,
372n31
and the revolution, 276-277
andthe state, 251-262
Incrementalism, Charles Lindblom’s
philosophy of disjointed, 291-293
Industrialization
defined, 46
and momentum and motive in tech-
nological change, 47-55 passim
Industrial Revolution, 102-103
Inevitability of scientific discovery,
68-73
Inflexibility of large-scale systems,
299-300
Innovation, 73
Institute for Defense Analysis (IDA),
296-298
Instrumentality, 229-231
mechanisms enforcing, 231-234
Intelligence
artificial, 36, 304
human, baffled by complexity, 288
military, 302-303, 305
Interdependence, 184-185
“Intermediate technology,” 321
Invention(s)
connection between innovation and,
73-74
frequent occurrence of simultaneous,
66-67
unknown practical implications of,
92-93

Index 380

“Invisible hand,” 125, 293-294

ITT, 185

“ization” suffix words, use of, 49-50,
51, 54

Jaspers, Karl, 176, 218, 219-220
Manin the Modern Age, 174
Juenger, Friedrich Georg, 219-220
The Failure of Technology, 174,
204-205

Kafka, Franz, 323

Kahn, Herman, 74-75

Kant, Immanuel, 16, 151

Karloff, Boris, 307

Kateb, George, Utopia and Its Ene-
mies, 17-18

Keniston, Kenneth, 206, 231-232

Kennedy, John F., 31

Kepler, Johannes, 5, 24

Kerr, Clark, 54-55

Industrialism and Industrial Man,

50-51

Koestler, Arthur, The Act of Creation,
283

Kranzberg, Melvin, 90, 363n4

Kroeber, A. L., 66-67

Kropotkin, Prince Petr, 127

Kubler, George, 66, 72

Labor
Marx on division of, 79-81, 85
Marx’s theory of alienated, 36-40
Labor-saving technology, myth of,
204-205
La Mettrie, Julien Offray de, 192-193
Landes, David, The Unbound Prome-
theus, 50, 102-103, 347n19
Landers, Richard R., 341-342n34
Langley, Samuel, 44
Language, effects of technological
order upon, 222-224
Lapp, Richard, 161
Laue, Max von, 68
Lawrence, D. H., 55
Legislation, technology as, 317-325
Leibniz, Gottfried Wilhelm von, 92,
318

Leiss, William, 132
Lenin, V. I., 266
fascination with Taylorism, 273
“The Immediate Tasks of the Soviet
Government,” 267
State and Revolution, 268-272
his theory of socialism, 268-272,
273-276
view of technology and division of
labor, 274-276 ;
Liberalism, technocracy and, 146-172,
265
Lindblom, Charles, 293
his philosophy of ‘‘disjointed incre-
mentalism,” 291-292

“The Science of Muddling Through,”

292

Littauer, Raphael, ed., The Air War in
Indochina, 302-303

Lockheed Aircraft Corporation, 245,
260

“Lord and Bondsman,” Hegel’s view
of, 187-188

Ludd, Ned, 127

Luddism, epistemological, 325-335

Lugosi, Bela, 307

Lukacs, Georg, 80

Luther, Martin, 4

Luxemburg, Rosa, 273

McConnell, Grant, 244
Machiavelli, Niccold, 94
Machine
inadequate as a metaphor, 192-193
as a metaphor, ix, 45
McLuhan, Marshall, 6, 178, 202, 285
McNamara, Robert S., 29, 261
Madison, James, 27, 89, 155, 157
The Federalist Papers, 160
Maelzel, Johann Nepomuk, 32
Maintenance state, technological,
goals of, 265, 268
Man, excesses of technological civili-
zation blamed on flaw in nature
of, 108-111
Mandelstam, Nadezhda, 323
Mao Tse-tung, 277
Marcus Aurelius, 94

Index 381

Marcuse, Herbert, 6, 40, 55, 219, 247,
264
on automation, 203
on effect of technological order on
language, 222-223
on effect of technological order on
man’s erotic instincts, 206
on human liberation, 187-188
and importance of planning, 240
One-Dimensional Man, 174, 220-223
on technological rationality, 174,
242
his theories of surplus repression and
one-dimensionality, 232
and utopian thinking, 326
Market influences, minimizing,
242-243
Marx, Karl, 115, 133, 142, 177, 186,
212, 220
Capital, 36-37, 40, 57
on concept of need, 83-84, 247
Critique of the Gotha Program,
273-274
The Critique of Political Economy,
78
Economic and Philosophic Manu-
scripts, 40
on forces of production, 78-84,
273-274
The German Ideology, 39, 79
Grundrisse, 83
Jacques Ellul on, 125-126
on man as appendage of machines,
203
Manifesto of the Communist Party,
266-267
and myth of labor-saving technology,
204
The Poverty of Philosophy, 79
on relationship of wage slavery to
capitalist master class, 188-189,
190
on relations of production, 78-84,
273-274
on technological determinism, 77-85,
88
on technological evolution, 57
his theory of alienated labor, 36-40

his theory of socialism, 266-267,
269, 273-274
Master-slave metaphor, 20-21
in theory of technological politics,
187-190
Mastery, concept of, 18-30, 132,
187-190
Mayo, Louis H., 90
Means, relation to ends, 29-30,
233-234, 238-252, 278, 295-
305
Measurement, influence of techniques
upon, 215-216, 234-236
Mechanization of humanity, 192-193,
213-214, 358-359n41
Media, 295, 356n5
Megatechnics, versus polytechnics,
108-109
Melman, Seymour, 161, 352n36
Pentagon Capitalism, 18
Melville, Herman, 53
Men and machines, convergence of,
58-59
Meynaud, Jean, 149, 258, 352n37,
365n36
Michels, Robert, 147
Military Systems, 295-305
Mills, C. Wright, 147
Milton, John, Paradise Lost, 312-313
Minsky, Marvin, 304
Modernization
defined, 46-47
and momentum and motive in tech-
nological change, 47-55 passim
W. W. Rostow on, 103, 104
Moltke, Helmuth von, 299-300
Momentum and motive, in technologi-
cal change, 46-57
Monster, Frankenstein, commonly
misunderstood, 307-317
Moore, Wilbert E., Social Change, 47
Moral dilemmas, in large-scale systems,
301-305
More, Thomas, Utopia, 137, 142
Morris, William, 19, 127
Mosca, Gaetano, 147
Motion pictures, conception of autono-
mous technology in, 31, 306-307

Index 382

Motives, in technological politics,
262-264
Mumford, Lewis, 2, 6, 52, 122, 219,
350n10
and centralization, 253
on expansion of “neotechnic’’ socie-
ties, 209
on the Greeks, 120
his flaw-in-the-human-character
thesis, 108-110
and importance of planning, 240
on the mega-machine, 4-5, 289
The Myth of the Machine, 174
on “Power Complex,” 193
on small-scale technics, 328
on technology and freedom, 46, 55
My Lai, massacre of civilians at, 302

Nader, Ralph, 244
Napoleon Bonaparte, 32, 122
National Academy of Sciences, 99
National Aeronautics and Space
Administration (NASA), 245
National War College, 303
“Natural social groups,” Ellul’s con-
cept of, 122-124
Nature
and human nature, 132, 210-212
and Western civilization, blamed for
excesses of technological civiliza-
tion, 108-118
Western man’s relationship to, 21-23
Necessity, generated by technological
change, 102-104
Need(s)
manipulation of human, by system,
246-248
Marx on concept of, 83-84
Network, definition of term, 12
Neutrality, technological, 27, 30,
200-202, 325
Newcomen, Thomas, 53
“New ethic” for technical practice,
130-134
Newman, Barnett, 110
Newton, Sir Isaac, 24, 61, 193,
308
Nieburg, H. L., 27, 161

Nietzsche, Friedrich, 29, 59, 230,
358n4
his critique of utilitarianism, 96, 98
on link between slave and master,
189, 190
Noncomprehensibility of technologies,
27-28

Oakeshott, Michael, 179
Obsolescence, occupational, 71-72
Ogburn, William F., 2, 77
Olduvai Gorge relics, 110
Onassis, Aristotle, 85-86
Oppenheimer, J. Robert, 73
Order, technological, 173
compared to medieval Christian
notion, 191-192, 358n37
discipline, pace, and, 191-208
Organization, technical
apparatus, technique, and, 200-201
definition of term, 12, 75
Origen, 114
Orwell, George, 19
Owen, Robert, 27, 127

Paracelsus, Philippus Aureolus, 25, 308
Pareto, Vilfredo, 147-148
Paris Communes, 269, 324
Participation, political, 157-159, 287,
295-296, 326
Pascal, Blaise, 92
Passmore, John, 120
Man’s Responsibility for Nature,
113-115
Pateman, Carole, 324
Pelto, Pertti J., 86-88
Pentagon Papers, 296
Personnel Security Board, 72-73
Piaget, Jean, 356n11
Piel, Gerard, 90
Pirsig, Robert, Zen and the Art of
Motorcycle Maintenance, 128
Planning, technique of, 239-241, 246
Plato, 27, 133
Gorgias, 121
The Republic, 121, 142, 279
“Plausible deniability,” doctrine of,
305

Index 383

Pluralism, political, 89-92, 150-151
Poe, Edgar-Allan, 32, 41
Poetry and rationality, 361n98
Political knowledge, role of, in techno-
cratic theory, 157-158
Politica] theory. See Technological
politics, theory of
Politics, technological, ix, 173-175,
237-238. See also Imperative,
technological; Reverse adaptation;
Technological politics, theory of
and loss of freedom, 194
and master-slave metaphor, 187-190
Postindustrialism, 372n34
Poulsen, Valdemar, 92
Power
conceptions of, in technocratic
writings, 139-140, 351n12
dispersion o f in technological poli-
tics, 261
fusion of economic and political,
152-153, 160
Price, Don K., 165, 167, 168, 261-262,
354n62
The Scientific Estate, 151-162,
170-171
Problem-solving, as a mentality, 10,
133-134, 199
Production
Marx on forces of, 78-81, 82-83,
273-274
Marx on relations of, 78, 80-81
Professionals, ethics of, 301-305,
307-317
Progress, idea of, 46, 98-100, 107,
315-316, 329-330, 370-
371n20
Rousseau’s view of, 126, 193-194,
217
Prometheus, 306, 312, 333-335
Propaganda, Ellul’s concept of,
247-248, 364n17
Proudhon, Pierre Joseph, 127

Qualities, sacrifice of, in technical
modification, 210-211

RAND, 185

Rationality, concepts of in technologi-
cal society, 174, 179-181, 242,
357n14, 357n18

Reading dynamics, emphasis on speed
and efficiency in, 230

Reason, instrumental, 115-116

Recordings, popular, view of techno-
logical society in, 356n6

Reductionism, 176-177

Reich, Charles, 371n25

Relations of production, Marx’s
concept of, 78, 80-81, 273-274

Responsibility, 2, 68-71, 295-305,
307-317

Reverse adaptation, 226-236

and control, 238-251

Revolution, socialist, 262-278

Robot, first use of word, 189

Rose, Michael, 219

Rostow, W. W., 47, 49, 50

on process of technological develop-
ment, 55

“The Underlying Process of Moderni-
zation,” 103, 104

Rousseau, Jean-Jacques, 100, 126,

196, 217
Discourses, 178, 193-194
on prudence in innovation, 100
view of progress, 126, 193-194, 217

Royal Society, 138

Ruling class, 147-151, 256-257,
262-264

Ruskin, John, 19, 127

‘Sabotage, Veblen’s concept of, 186
Saint-Simon, Henri de, 27, 170, 174
on French Revolution, 140-141
on rule by technical elites, 140-141,
143, 146
Samuel, A. L., 304
Sartre, Jean-Paul, Search for a Method,
95
Satellite communications, 135, 225
Savio, Mario, 336n1
Scale, question of, 181-182
Scheler, Max, 130
Schliefen plan, 299-300
Schmookler, Jacob, 236

Index 384

Schon, Donald, 64
Schopenhauer, Arthur, 217
Science, wedding of technology and,
21-25
Scientific discovery, inevitability of,
68-73
Scientific estate, discussion of,
151-162
Scientific revolution, 5-6
Scientists, responsibility of, 68-71
Scott, Howard, Technocracy Inc.,
149-150
Seaborg, Glenn T., 261, 329-330
Second nature, concept of, 190
Seidenberg, Roderick, 48-49
Self-activity, Marx’s concept of, 37-38
Seneca, Lucius Annaeus, 217
Servitude, theme of technical,
194-198, 203
Shakespeare, William, 53
Shelley, Mary Wollstonecraft, Franken-
stein, 31, 306-313, 316-317, 333
Shelley, Percy Bysshe, 361 n98
Prometheus Unbound, 312
Shortages, manipulated by large-scale
systems, 249-250
Side effects of technological change,
88-100
Simon; Herbert, 90, 291
Simultaneous discoveries, 66
Sin, Ellul’s view of, 348-349n46
Size and technical concentration,
181-182
Skinner, Bb. F., 192
Beyond Freedom and Dignity, 16-17
Slavery, Aristotle’s view of, 20-21
Sloan, Alfred, 53
Small-scale technologies, 182, 328
Smith, Adam, 125, 293
Wealth of Nations, 183
Social fact, Durkheim’s concept of,
67-68, 281
Socialism ;
Chinese, 277, 367n72
technocracy and, 171-172, 265-278
passim
Society, technological, 174-175
artificiality of, 178

centralization of control in, 185
complex interconnection within, 183
danger of apraxia in, 185-187
dependence and interdependence
within, 184-185
division of, 182-183
and extension of human capabilities,
178-179
and rationality, 179-181
size and concentration of, 181-182
as subsystem of technological order,
191
theory of, 175-178
Solon of Athens, 93
Sovereignty, diffusion of, 153-154,
160 :
Spaichl, Hans, 121
Speer, Albert, 15, 146
Spence, Larry, 373n36
Spengler, Oswald, 158
The Decline of the West, 145
Man and Technics, 145-146, 174
Standard Oil, 244
State, technological imperative and,
251-262
Stoics, Greek and Roman, 114, 115
Supersonic transport program, 135,
225, 245, 315
Sypher, Wylie, 6, 128
System, large-scale
control of markets by, 242-243
creation of crisis by, to justify expan-
sion, 248-251
inertia in, 295-305
influence on political processes of,
243-244 ;
manipulation of human needs by,
246-248
seeking of mission by, to match tech-
nological capabilities, 244-246
Systems, military, 295-305
Systems analysis, 219, 223-224
Systems dynamics, 129-130
Systems theory, general, 288-290

Taylor, Frederick Winslow, 213
Principles of Scientific Management,
143

Index 385

Technique(s)
apparatus, organization, and,
200-201
definition of term, 12, 75
influence upon the arts, 128
Jacques Ellul on, 9, 15-16, 52,
281-282
self-augmentation of, 60-68
Technocracy
alternative conception of, 258-262
classical, 135-146
defined, 135
Inc., 149-150
and liberalism, 146-172, 265
and socialism, 171-172, 265-278
standard notion of, 256-258
Technological politics, theory of
basic concepts in, 175-178
basic theses of, 190, 238-251
concept of citizenship in, 207, 286,
295-296, 325
concept of order in, 191-192
concept of planning in, 239-241, 246
concept of reverse adaptation in,
226-236, 238-251
concept of technological impera-
tive in, 258-260, 276-277
concept(s) of technological trans-
formation and incorporation in,
208-226
distinguished from traditional con-
ceptions of politics, 237-238,
251-252
failure of modern revolution in,
262-278
master/slave themes in, 187-190
place of ideology in, 277-278
problem of means and ends in, 190,
226-236, 238-251, 278
problem of moral agency in, 301-305
reformulation of concept of technoc-
racy in, 258-260
related to Marxism, 262-278
significance of ruling class minimized
in, 262-264
themes of crisis, shortage, and threat
in, 248-250
as a tradition of thought, 173-174

Technology
assessment, 90
autonomous, defined, 15-18
definition of term, 8-12
out-of-control, 13-15
as a political phenomenon, 323-325
Technomania, 298, 372n31
Television, 100, 295
Theology, applied to technological
civilization, 111-118, 119-123,
348-349n50
Theory, political. See Technological
politics, theory of
Therapy as applied to the technological
dilemma, 107-108
Thermodynamics, 48-49
Thompson, James D., 180
Thoreau, Henry, 19
Tool-making animal, man as, 109-111
Tools, large-scale, 276
Tool-use ethic, 27, 30, 200, 201-202,
228
Transformation, and incorporation,
technological, 208-226
Truman, David, 89
Tuchman, Barbara, 299-300
Twain, Mark. See Clemens, Samuel

Uncertainty, 93-100
Unemployment, 203
Unintended consequences, 91-98, 103
Unintention, concept of, 98
Uphoff, Norman, ed., The Air War in
Indochina, 302-303
Use, concept of
inadequate in accounts of large-scale
technologies, 198-203, 224, 226,
228-229, 362n111
related to technological neutrality,
27, 30, 338n36
USS. Steel, 243
Utilitarianism, 96, 98, 123
Utilization, versus use, 228-229
Utopians, 98-99, 137, 140-143

Valéry, Paul, 13
“Unpredictability,” 290
Veblen, Thorstein, 153, 162, 170, 186

Index 386

Veblen, Thorstein (continued)
on cultural incidence of machine
process, 196-198
Engineers and the Price System, 149
on rule by technical elites, 143-145,
146, 148
Vertical integration, 101, 243
Vesalius, Andreas, 5
Vico, Giambattista, 279
Vietnam, North, effects of bombing of,
296-299, 300
Voluntarist view of technological
change, 53-56, 60-63, 76-77
Vonnegut, Kurt, 19, 36
Player Piano, 33-34
Voting, by technical credentials,
170-171
VSTOL aircraft system, 225, 245

Watergate, 305
Watson, Thomas, 53
Watt, James, 53
Weber, Max, 180, 254
The Protestant Ethic and Spirit of
Capitalism, 111-112
Webster’s Second International,
definition of technology in, 8
Webster’s Third New International,
definition of technology in, 8-9
Weiner, Myron, 51
Weizenbaum, Joseph, 340n4, 368n 30,
369n49
Weizsacker, Carl Friedrich von, 68, 69,
70
Wells, H. G.
The Mind at the End of Its Tether,
290-291
A Modern Utopia, 142
and rule by technical elite, 148
When the Sleeper Wakes, 142
Western civilization, origins of techno-
logical dynamism in, 111-118
White, Leslie, 2, 48, 76
White, Lynn, Jr., 119, 120, 131-132
“The Historical Roots of Our Eco-
logic Crisis,” 112-113, 114
Whitney, Eli, 204
Wiener, Norbert, Cybernetics, 70-71

Wilde, Oscar, 26
Wilensky, Harold L., 298-299
Wilhelm, Kaiser, 299-300
Wirtz, Karl, 68
Wittgenstein, Ludwig, 223
Philosophical Investigations, 9
Wolin, Sheldon, 324
Wood, Evelyn, 230
Woolridge, Dean E., 192
Workers and the machine
Marx’s view of, 36-40
Veblen’s view of, 143-144, 196-198
Working class, Marcuse’s view of, 221

Index 386

Veblen, Thorstein (continued)
on cultural incidence of machine
process, 196-198
Engineers and the Price System, 149
on rule by technical elites, 143-145,
146, 148
Vertical integration, 101, 243
Vesalius, Andreas, 5
Vico, Giambattista, 279
Vietnam, North, effects of bombing of,
296-299, 300
Voluntarist view of technological
change, 53-56, 60-63, 76-77
Vonnegut, Kurt, 19, 36
Player Piano, 33-34
Voting, by technical credentials,
170-171
VSTOL aircraft system, 225, 245

Watergate, 305
Watson, Thomas, 53
Watt, James, 53
Weber, Max, 180, 254
The Protestant Ethic and Spirit of
Capitalism, 111-112
Webster’s Second International,
definition of technology in, 8
Webster’s Third New International,
definition of technology in, 8-9
Weiner, Myron, 51
Weizenbaum, Joseph, 340n4, 368n 30,
369n49
Weizsacker, Carl Friedrich von, 68, 69,
70
Wells, H. G.
The Mind at the End of Its Tether,
290-291
A Modern Utopia, 142
and rule by technical elite, 148
When the Sleeper Wakes, 142
Western civilization, origins of techno-
logical dynamism in, 111-118
White, Leslie, 2, 48, 76
White, Lynn, Jr., 119, 120, 131-132
“The Historical Roots of Our Eco-
logic Crisis,” 112-113, 114
Whitney, Eli, 204
Wiener, Norbert, Cybernetics, 70-71

Wilde, Oscar, 26
Wilensky, Harold L., 298-299
Wilhelm, Kaiser, 299-300
Wirtz, Karl, 68
Wittgenstein, Ludwig, 223
Philosophical Investigations, 9
Wolin, Sheldon, 324
Wood, Evelyn, 230
Woolridge, Dean E., 192
Workers and the machine
Marx’s view of, 36-40
Veblen’s view of, 143-144, 196»
Working class, Marcuse’s view of, 9@